i'm just curious...

I deactivated my Instagram account last week. I deleted the app from my phone back in August, but something stirred in me after New Year's, prompting a commitment to really distance myself from the 'gram.

Maybe I deactivated because I'm waist-deep in my own perceived failures (i.e. quitting my job and moving to New York without much to show for it four months later). Or maybe because I subconsciously wanted to be as far removed from other people's successes as possible. Doesn't that sound awful? This "social media comparison as the thief of joy" phenomenon has been studied and reported to death, so my feelings aren't unprecedented. But what's interesting to me is that with all this research and insight, social media continues thrive despite thousands of private and public "fasts."

When I told one of my friends about my Instagram inactivity she confided that she deleted Snapchat from her phone days earlier. Both the pressure to keep up with new dating norms (boys "snap" now instead of text... I'm sorry, what?) and her time-consuming exploration of Snapchannels inspired the deletion. She felt she was wasting energy on an app that offered little fulfillment in return.

Another friend feels the same way about Facebook. She hasn't deleted her account, but rarely visits the site. Still another friend vowed (in the form of a New Year's resolution) that she would kibosh her late-night Instagram scrolling. She said she's losing important sleeping hours while passively scrolling pre-snooze... simply out of habit.

I don't experience the same disquietude with Snapchat. There's less precision, less pretentious "curation" on the time-sensitive app. Plus I choose who's story I watch and who I interact with. And there's little quantitative validation on Snapchat, unlike the "likes" and "comments" on Insta. But I understand the frustration. Witnessing every single friend and acquaintance's happiest moments is unnatural. Never in history have we been privy to so many highs and virtually no lows. No wonder society's psyche is being reshaped.

So my question is this: how do we combat this trend? Is there a way to exist in a social media-hungry world without the accompanying despondency? And don't suggest that Instagram can be reframed as a platform for "creativity" or "inspiration." In my mind--and after many futile attempts, history dictates--it cannot. Nor can its effects be mitigated by finding my own sense of peace with my circumstances. The already present strain to do so is magnified when I'm confronted with daily engagement announcements and work promotions.

Obviously for now my best course of action is to veer away from Instagram. But tell me, how do your personal experiences inform the future of social media?