Vain and Stupid — Why I Dislike Social Media
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That title isn’t an arbitrary one. The main conclusion I came to after having a month off of social media is just that — it was making me vain and stupid. Like an alcoholic sobering up after a spree and daring to ask their companions to fill in their oblivious blanks, when given the gift of hindsight and distance from my prior behaviours - I started to feel a sense of irony and shame.
This is partly because it was only with distance that I could acknowledge the extent to which I had been seeking validation. Validation is a kind of abstract term. We all want to feel good about ourselves, we all want to be approved of and feel like we matter. But when does seeking validation become unhealthy? When it becomes compulsive and tied to our mood, in my opinion.
I started to fully grasp the extent of my addiction to social media a few months ago, when I was making attempts to limit my use of it. In the midst of this, I posted a selfie to my Instagram story for the first time in weeks with a “why not?” kind of attitude. It was semi-revealing and due to this, a number of men ‘liked’ the story. Because I was becoming more conscious of social media and its affects on me, I actually noticed a physical sensation in response to seeing these likes — a small jolt in my abdomen not unlike the sensation of butterflies. The only way I could understand this response was through realising that I’d gotten an addictive hit.
This realisation was a sobering one (pun not intended) and from that point onward my thinking around it all shifted. No wonder I felt compelled to post selfies so often (not to mention that the Instagram algorithm favours selfies and images with bodies in them, rewarding users with increased visibility if they’ll succumb to this incentive for vanity). I was also becoming more informed about addiction in general and the myriad ways in which dopaminergic stimuli are overwhelming us in modern life.
Because we’ve transformed the world from a place of scarcity to a place of overwhelming abundance: Drugs, food, news, gambling, shopping, gaming, texting, sexting, Facebooking, Instagramming, YouTubing, tweeting . . . the increased numbers, variety, and potency of highly rewarding stimuli today is staggering. The smartphone is the modern-day hypodermic needle, delivering digital dopamine 24/7 for a wired generation.
― Anna Lembke, Dopamine Nation: Finding Balance in the Age of Indulgence
It was at Dr. Anna Lembke’s suggestion in her book ‘Dopamine Nation’ that I attempted a month of abstinence from social media. She’s a psychiatrist who maintains that 28 days of abstinence from your drug of choice provides the time and space necessary to gather insights on the nature of the addiction and also, more importantly, to reset the pleasure-pain balance in the brain. I knew that overuse of social media was making me miserable but I wasn’t sure if I could manage to abstain for this length of time. Thankfully, I did. The concept of this ‘experiment’ appealed to my curious and sometimes analytical nature.
During this time, I came to accept that I had been addicted. And I also came to realise that many of the things I posted under the guise of empowerment only seemed empowering because they appealed to the male gaze which I was manipulating through dress. I think every woman comes to the realisation at a certain point (usually in adolescence) that their body is social capital — and that whether we like it or not, in the minds of many, we exist as sexual objects. A sort of denial ensues, where we start to harness the power of our bodies in a fruitless attempt to gain the upper-hand in a patriarchal society, through seduction and teasing and competing with other women for male attention. These endeavours ultimately bear the rotten fruit of confirming the messaging we’ve already been fed — that we’re worth nothing more than our sex.
There’s this idea that “if you’ve got it, you can spot it” which refers to seeing your own affliction in others (and, I guess, seeing how many other people own the same car as you..?). After acknowledging my own validation-seeking, I started noticing it everywhere; on social media and beyond. And not in a critical, holier-than-thou sense, but in a compassionate and understanding one. It’s as much a symptom of patriarchy as it is of the technological age, in my opinion. But of course, it’s not only women who are prone to seeking validation online.
Aside from validation seeking, I started to see how my compulsive use of social media was tied to bids for intimacy. I wasn’t just picking up my phone every 5 minutes because I wanted someone to tell me I was beautiful or intelligent or interesting, I was seeking connection and belonging and an escape from listlessness and vacant moments. Whether that was by flicking through people’s stories on Instagram, checking my DMs or scrolling through my ‘likes’ and ‘story views’ to interpret what they could possibly signify.
There’s this strange sensation of being surrounded by other people when on social media, when in reality you could be alone in your flat. Which makes it all the more disorienting when you put your phone down to be met with solitude.
I had to accept that spending less time on socials (I now strictly use them just once a week) meant less time spent connecting with certain people. But is a friendship that only exists, and can only exist, on Instagram a real friendship? I decided that it wasn’t. Many of these watered-down connections on Instagram consisting of sporadic story replies, views and likes are like empty calories to the person craving nutrition. What I really crave is in-person connection or alternatively, genuine conversation over message which isn’t just passing comments in response to the myriad prompts that Instagram provides. I feel less lonely having a few genuine connections than I do when I’m inundated with empty stimulation on Instagram for 4+ hours a day.
I mentioned stupidity earlier. When I say that social media makes me stupid, what I mean is that when I’m stuck in the hypnotic loop of compulsively seeking validation, watching contrived versions of the lives of others and investing in watered-down connections, it distracts me from other more meaningful activities. When I found myself proverbially twiddling my thumbs during my month of abstinence, I turned to other, slower forms of entertainment — like podcasts, books and YouTube videos. I started to learn more. More importantly, I slowly regained the attention span to do so.
I believe that for those of us with an addictive tendency, the hypnotic nature of social media blocks our capacity for perspective and true insight. I don’t know how else to prove that this is the case besides the overwhelming amount of insights I gained during abstinence from it (too many to list here), and the fervent nature with which I’ve been songwriting recently. I didn’t realise how vain I was until I gave it up for a month. I didn’t realise how skewed my priorities had been. I remember the first time I wore makeup during that month and how alien it felt to not be posting a selfie. And how it felt to just look at what was around me without posting a picture of it and considering whether other people would think it was cool or interesting — whether it would prove that I have a life which looks exciting. This insidious dynamic of quasi-exhibitionism and voyeurism on social media is very compelling.
The elephant in the room for people with something to promote, creatives for example, is — “but I can’t quit social media, I need it to promote my work.” This is the case for me, as a musician. I know that it ‘hurts’ my visibility and potential to reach more people for me to be on social media less. This is a sacrifice I’ve decided I’m willing to make. It’s a paradox that artists are often particularly emotional and sensitive to the drawbacks of social media — like blows to self-esteem when a post doesn’t perform well or when a song gets lukewarm feedback — and that we’re also constantly harangued to be on it as much as possible, by people who proclaim to know best (my digital music distributor, for one).
I’ve laid out certain parameters for myself with regards to posting on social media to prevent compulsive validation-seeking and its consequences which are basically that when I post it needs to be somewhat meaningful or it needs to serve a logistical purpose (such as a gig announcement). At the moment, that means seldom posting at all. So be it.
I’m no use to anyone when I’m not well. Compulsive use of social media was making me unwell — emotionally, physically and spiritually. If a career in music depends on me being unwell in this way then that just doesn’t make sense. I seriously doubt that it’s God’s will for me to spiritually sick for the sake of my music. I know that some people won’t fully grasp why I can only use social media once a week (why not for an hour a day?) and these are likely people who don’t have addictive brains and for whatever reason are less sensitive to the lure of these platforms. Consider if you’d tell the alcoholic in your life to “just have one” or if you’d insist on meeting in bars knowing the nature of their affliction.
There are plenty more reasons why I generally dislike social media and its effects on me — the prevalence of superficiality, egotism and deception (especially within the music industry); the silent pressure to be more like everyone else and to compromise yourself to increase engagement; the way it breeds comparison and insecurity; how it grants people easy access to you and the passive, low-effort, crass ways in which men often flirt on these platforms. But if I did a deep dive on all this, this would be a 20+ minute read instead of a 9 minute one.
To conclude, daily use of social media may work for some people but it doesn’t work for me. It sucks me into an addictive loop where moderation is no longer possible to the extent that my sleep, mental health, spirituality, and even my values suffer. I’ve had conversations with others who also struggle with getting enough sleep due to the sole fact that they’re on their phone last thing at night, so I know I’m not alone in that. Aside from limiting my social media use to once a week, I also sleep with my phone out of the room. This is what Dr. Lembke calls a “self-binding” strategy. There’s something surprisingly liberating in addressing addictive behaviour with rigorous honesty and then taking steps to prevent it. Self-binding may not sound liberating but my previous denial and delusion that “tonight will be different” is what was actually keeping me trapped and stifled. I’m now much less able to justify unhealthy patterns of behaviour and this realism brings with it a sense of peace and resolution.
If you’re still reading, I’d encourage you to try to migrate your digital friendships off of social media and into the real world. If you’re an artist, I’d recommend you make a mailing list to give you and your supporters the opportunity for a breather from social media without missing important announcements. If you know you use social media too much and you’re curious about what your life would look like with less of it, I’d suggest you to try 28 days of abstinence like I did — just as an experiment. You might be surprised at what insights you gain.
Thanks for reading. Below are some resources about social media addiction.
