Social media: to be with or to be without it?

my personal experience & thoughts

collage by me!

heads up: this is a pretty lengthy post so it will get cut off in your mail app. you can download the entire message or read it on the website/app. thank you :)

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I.

I began my social media journey in 2012 when I opened a Twitter account at 11 years old. Over the years, my relationship with social media has been like a see-saw where at one point I’m absolutely infatuated with it, wondering how I could survive its absence, and at the other, I wholly abhor how it sucks up my attention, barely leaving any to spare for other interests.

For the past few years, I’ve deleted a bunch of social media accounts till I had none left with major social networking platforms. When people find out I don’t have an Instagram or Twitter account, most of them ask me the same question after a look of disbelief or horror has crossed their faces: so what do you do with your time? It took me a while to find the perfect answer but now I simply say: I live.

II.

Although it all began with Twitter when I was 11 years old, as time went by, I eagerly accumulated social media accounts, adorning myself with them like badges to be proud of. Instagram and Snapchat soon joined the array. 

However, social media didn’t have the space to dramatically impact my life yet because, from the ages of ten to fifteen, I spent most of my time in boarding school without a phone or internet access.

It wasn’t until I graduated, forgoing average Nigerian boarding school technological restrictions, that my relationship with social media morphed into something more solid and menacing. I graduated not just with a secondary school completion certificate but also Snapchat, Twitter, and Instagram accounts.

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When I started university, although Twitter had mostly maintained a front row in my life, Snapchat temporarily upstaged it. At the time, Snapchat was the place for my former classmates and me to converge. We were excited to start life after secondary school, but unready to let go of friendships, after all, we had lived together for most of six years.

As a form of solace to my difficult start to university, I clung tightly to my friends from secondary school—mostly with the help of Snapchat.

We had a shared story on the app called ‘come and share your thoughts’ with around 13 people on it. We’d post snippets of our lives throughout the day and it provided an illusion of being present in each others’ lives and up to date on daily happenings.

In retrospect, I’m discovering the role this played in keeping me from making new friends. I was already apathetic towards this, but constantly seeing what my friends were doing via Snapchat kept me in an isolated bubble I refused to burst.

But more important than the shared stories were Streaks. I put so much time and energy into Snapchat Streaks. I’m assuming they were meant to be a proud indicator of consistent communication between friends, but the content of the picture or video you sent out was less important than maintaining the streaks. My Streaks weren’t personalised or intentional. Sometimes, I’d send out a blurry picture or a short video of 2 seconds that showed nothing and passed no info across.

Twitter 2020

I remember a night when I was sick and drowsy but I couldn’t peacefully let my eyes shut because I hadn’t sent out Streaks. So like last words uttered to a loved one, I croaked out the specific time I needed my friend to use my phone to send out my Streaks before my eyes closed for the night.

I can’t recall exactly when I stopped sending Streaks but it got to a point that I realised I was injecting so much energy into it and I didn’t know why. I asked, What would happen if the numbers kept going up? What would change in my life? So I watched an over 300-day streak end and it felt freeing like I was letting go of needless weight. 

My breakup with Streaks was the beginning of the end. Although I never posted anything on it, I didn’t delete Snapchat because I didn’t want to lose the only place I had access to all my former classmates.

Eventually, I’d only go on there when I had tired of scrolling on Twitter and my fingers still itched to scroll. I’d watch stories of people I didn’t talk to anymore and those random brand stories and feel shitty after.

It wasn’t until I created a private story that I began to post on there. Even though it made me feel less anxious because I got to choose who I wanted to view it, it wasn’t long before it became a performance where I felt the need to show that my life was going well. I was more focused on looking like I was having a good time than actually having a good time. I got sick of it all and finally deleted my Snapchat account in early 2023. 

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Eventually, Twitter became king again and I could barely go two hours without opening the app. It was special to me for many reasons. First, it was a place I could hop on when I was feeling sad and the next second, I’d find myself doubled over in laughter. It was so easy to lose myself in the sardonic tweets and hilarious memes. Then I found cool people who inspired me and tweets that opened up my mind and made me consider questions I usually wouldn’t have. There was also the sense of connection I derived from it. I loved knowing what was going on and being in the loop. Lastly, there was always something new to get lost in: something to get angry at, laugh at, or be in awe of.

But in the midst of all that, I was never far away from a comparison. From wondering why my life didn’t look like the ones of the people I saw there. From envy brewing in me when I saw people’s achievements, ideas, and creativity. But I never did anything to find mine. 

And although I loved being in the loop, there was always an abundance of opinions on both relevant and useless topics. There were always people telling me how to be and not to be. I gobbled up what they said, shaping my life to fit what random strangers dictated. I felt the need to have the right opinion on everything all the time and at a point, I couldn’t form an opinion on something without reading the comments first to inform me on the right way to think.

I always wanted to be right by Twitter standards so I became overly conscious of everything I said or did. I craved validation and dreaded cancellation. I’d ponder if I should retweet something. What if there are other layers or sides to it that I’m too dumb to see? I’d brainstorm witty tweets and comment on things I didn’t necessarily want to. When I got the hit from the validation or acknowledgement, it wasn’t long until it wore off and I needed more. And the cycle continued.

Inevitably, I became so focused on my image there that it was almost as if real life didn’t matter. How people saw me online was a priority and it was a tiring performance.

After a while, to escape this, I deleted my account and created an anonymous account like some of my friends did. I only had two friends on there and it felt so much better because I didn’t feel the need to perform for anybody. I realised that for social media to feel less hostile to me, anonymity was important. Not because I wanted to troll or say things I didn’t have the guts to say without anonymity. However, because I didn’t feel the pressure to build and preserve an attractive online identity. I could observe in peace. Scroll for hours in peace. Be a passive audience in peace. And if anyone asked whether I had a Twitter account, I’d say no.

Twitter 2020

Then I noticed some of my friends did this thing where they’d disappear from Twitter for a while and return talking about how refreshed they felt from the break. I was intrigued and tried out social media breaks. Sometimes I’d plan for a week but last only two days and it felt so frustrating.

During these hiatuses, it was weirdly peaceful. I enjoyed the break from being sucked into a void and feeling shitty for spending so much time in that void. I didn’t feel like coming back, but I always did because I felt like I had to. But I took so many breaks and at the slightest feeling of discomfort online, I disappeared for a while.

But I always returned to where I started. And one time, I saw a tweet that said: ‘me if I left Twitter’ with a picture of someone waking up early, exercising, and practising a bunch of healthy habits. In the comments everyone laughed and said, Oh man, I wish. I wondered why so many people talked about leaving Twitter and how much their lives would be better without it but never left. It was like a weird inside joke. Then I realised how I was tethered to the actions of my friends: they joined Twitter, I did, they created fake accounts, and I followed suit. They hadn’t left Twitter, so maybe I was waiting for them. Then I realised I couldn’t wait for them to make a decision for my own life. I have to look out for myself.

At the time I had this realisation, I was already going through a disillusionment with Twitter. Every time I left and came back, I noticed that the joy it gave me was slowly disappearing. I’d open the app and scroll and scroll and feel absolutely nothing. It was like a spell wearing off and it didn’t feel good anymore.

When I noticed my total screen time was nine hours and seven of it was spent on Twitter, that did it for me. I deleted my account in 2021. Although I had a brief stint with Twitter for a few months in 2023 to keep up with the presidential election in my country, I soon rediscovered all the reasons I left in the first place and laid our relationship of over a decade to rest, hopefully forever. RIP Twitter + Fatima.

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I deleted my Instagram account in my first year of uni in 2017. I realised I wasn’t using it and I didn’t possess the bandwidth or interest to pose for and post well-curated, Instagram-worthy pictures. So I let the grid—of sparse pictures with pouted lips, purple lipstick, that one picture with me in a black leather mini skirt and black leather jacket—go.

Then finstas were trending and I dabbled in them. I had about ten friends on them and posted memes or the occasional selfie. But they faded away and I opted for an anonymous account where I simply followed cool people. I rarely used it and when I did, I avoided the explore page, lest I get sucked in. I scrolled on it when I needed a distraction or a pick-me-up, but eventually, I deleted it this year.

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I had the TikTok app for two days in 2022 where I relentlessly scrolled. I deleted the app after. My account still exists somewhere in the internet’s abyss. I haven’t logged into it in months.

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I got the Locket app in December 2022. I thought the app was cool and liked that it had space for a limited number of people. I had seven people on it, some close friends and some acquaintances. 

I eventually got rid of the home screen widgets—which defeats the point of the app—because it prompted me to scroll through the pictures even when I didn’t want to. Still, when I was bored or overwhelmed and didn’t want to think, my hands would find the app and numbly scroll through the pictures people posted. 

Although I sparsely used the app, every time I was crocheting, watching an old movie, taking a walk, or doing something I would have liked other people to know I was doing, my brain sent me a notification to pose or set things aesthetically, capture it and then post it on Locket. Then I’d wait for the emoji reactions from friends. 

There was a day a few months ago when I went to an art exhibition I thoroughly enjoyed and towards the end of the event, my brain sent the notification, panicking because I didn’t post a photo on Locket and the app doesn’t allow you to post pictures directly from your gallery. How would my friends and acquaintances know I attended a cool art exhibition?! It was then I knew it was time to go. 

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When I started using Substack in 2021, Notes didn’t exist. When it made its appearance, it was fun. It still is. And wholesome. It’s exciting the amount of amazing writers and amazing work I’ve found through it. I also love how I relate to so many of the notes I see on there.

But I’ve found myself scrolling on it when I don’t want to or longer than I’ve felt like. I’ve found my fingers clicking the Substack app when I feel anxious or badly in need of a distraction—not to read newsletters, but to scroll through Notes. Other times, rather than feel inspired, I find myself comparing my writing and newsletter with others. Or feeling the urge to say something even when I have nothing to say to get some recognition or some validation. I’ve deleted the Substack app this year and currently only access it through the web.

III. 

Navigating my life with less and less social media has led me to some realisations. For the longest time, I viewed my relationship with social media through an all-or-nothing lens, informed mostly by other people I saw online who completely let go of all their social media. Although I was largely satisfied with ditching my Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat accounts, I felt guilty about other accounts that existed, regardless of how frequently—or if at all—I used them.

I can’t claim a social media-free life because of my Tumblr account that no one knows exists (now you do) where I find pretty wallpaper and follow accounts that talk about beauty standards and ableism and what’s going on in Gaza—even though I go on there about twice a month then forget about its existence. Or my Pinterest which has so many things I love including this board of pretty things. Or my YouTube account with a myriad of saved yoga classes. Or because sometimes I scroll on Substack Notes for too long.

But the goal, I’ve realised, is not to fit into a well-defined box and stay in it. It’s to find “a lovely balance between unplugging from and indulging in what I wanted on my terms.”—the source of this beautiful line:

Antonia George

’s last newsletter.

So for me, I discovered it’s a bad idea to have social media apps on my phone. My fingers gravitate to them without thought when I experience difficult emotions or situations: sadness, anger, frustration, boredom, etc. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism. But when I have to access these apps through the web, it makes the process harder and less appealing. It also gives me time to rethink my decision and change my mind. And because the apps aren’t on my phone, I don’t use these platforms a lot. I could go a month without logging into my Tumblr or Pinterest.

Another thing that helps me is turning off notifications. They’re like a boomerang the app throws that comes back with you hanging off of it. They’re mostly useless and a nuisance. Apart from apps I use solely for messaging like WhatsApp, iMessage and Discord, I’ve turned off notifications for YouTube, the only other social media app I have on my phone. 

Twitter 2020

Lastly, I’ve discovered that I need to be intentional about the social media I still use even if I don’t have the apps on my phone or I’ve turned off notifications, or I will find myself back where I started. I’ve experimented a lot with boundaries on how to navigate the social media I still use. I’ve tried using them only during the weekends, or only during the week, and setting time limits. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. 

Another recent social media break happened because I was using Substack Notes for too long and felt shitty after, bringing about a new system that seems to work for me. It goes this way: no social media or impulsive checking before noon. This includes Substack Notes, opening my email (which I only access through the web), watching a WhatsApp status, opening the YouTube app, or logging into Tumblr or Pinterest. But I’m allowed to reply to messages.

Then from 12 pm to 6 pm, I can indulge myself in these things. However, there are more rules. When I want to scroll on Substack Notes or Tumblr or Pinterest, I give myself a 5-30-minute window, depending on the nature of my indulgence, so I don’t endlessly scroll and feel horrible after. I also try to discover what exactly I’m looking for when I open certain platforms like YouTube where I head straight for the search bar or a specific channel to avoid lingering on the feed. As long as I avoid the feed, I’m usually fine with YouTube.

Then from 6 pm to bedtime, the gate closes again. And I’ve noticed this has given my mornings and evenings so much space. Sometimes, I try to extend the closed gate through the weekends as a sort of purge so I don’t start to feel like access to these spaces is a reward. I try to find ways to participate in the life in front of me and enjoy it, reminding myself that the dopamine hit from notifications is mostly not worth it.

It might seem complicated, but it works for me. At least in this season I’m currently in.

IV.

I feel so many things from cutting down on and restricting my social media usage. But it’s mostly peace and space.

Peace from not being in the loop with slangs and gist and trends. I feel they’re tiring to follow because there’s always something new to keep up with.

I feel at peace from the constant barrage of opinions, both intellectual and nonsensical. There’s no anxiety over whether I’m thinking the right thoughts. Also, I’m no longer privy to all the anger people direct at each other online.

Peace from having fewer people to compare myself with. Peace from the lack of anxiety and FOMO that comes from being online. Peace from the sense of urgency.

Peace from seeing pretty things and not wanting to capture them on camera. On the other hand, peace from taking pictures of myself or pretty things solely for the memory. Peace from not feeling the urge to share these pictures with the world. Peace from sending them to a select few people who are interested in them. Or sprinkling them across my newsletters.

the sky | august ‘24

Then there’s the space I experience. It was as if social media stole pockets of my time. I’d blink and one hour is gone scrolling when it felt like five minutes.

Now there’s space to do the things I’ve wanted to do but thought I had no time. There are moments when there is time and space in front of me in abundance. Where before I would have picked up my phone to scroll, I now ask what should I fill my time with? And I skim through my hobbies. Or sit in silence.

Because there’s space to sit in silence and see that the world doesn’t end. Space to trace the lines of my hand. Space to stare into nothingness.

Space to notice things. Like the way the light bulb cover in my room has a flower on it and I never realised. Like how sometimes, the blue of the sky is such a startlingly pretty shade. Like the pattern of light green dots and lines against the darker green of aloe vera leaves.  

There’s also space to have actual conversations with my friends rather than assume I know what’s going on in their lives through snippets of videos and pictures they post.  There’s space to talk to my family devoid of scrolling where I really listen to them.

There’s space to find other cool things the internet has to offer and indulge in them. Like newsletters, interior design blogs, essays and podcasts. Or online communities like

Locked In

, and my writers’ club or even online Scrabble.

There’s space to have experiences that fill me up and space to discover more of what I like.

V.

I know I can’t solely blame social media for my anxiety or feelings of inadequacy and my insecurities in general. It’s a big trigger, but even without it, I’ll always meet people who make me question and doubt myself and my abilities. It’s my responsibility to work on those and find healthier coping mechanisms.

And yes, it’s very rare, but sometimes I miss some of these platforms I’ve let go of. But it doesn’t last long and the absence and restrictions are so worth it for me. 

I’ve discovered it’ll be different for everyone and no one can create a blueprint for how everyone else should navigate social media. We have to figure it out for ourselves.