The Year I Deleted Instagram
2024 was the year I deleted Instagram. For ages, I had been toying with the idea, convincing myself I needed it for updates, inspiration, or even just as a little distraction. But let’s face it: it was rarely “just a little.” The endless scrolling, comparing, and consuming left me feeling more drained than inspired. So, one ordinary day, I disabled m account and hit delete.
At first, it felt liberating. Suddenly, I had extra time. No more opening the app “just for a second” and finding myself lost in a wormhole of reels 20 minutes later. My mornings, once punctuated by a quick scroll in bed, were quieter. My evenings, often filled with the blue glow of endless feeds, became calmer. Without Instagram, my mind felt less cluttered, as if someone had finally closed a dozen open tabs.
But here’s the thing about deleting an app: the void is easy to fill. Without Instagram, I found myself turning to other menial, mindless distractions—checking emails compulsively, scrolling multiple news apps, or diving into TikTok “just to see what it’s about.” The habit wasn’t the app; it was the impulse to avoid stillness, the pull to fill every idle moment with something, anything.
That’s when I realised the real challenge wasn’t deleting Instagram. It was committing to being present.
Presence doesn’t come naturally in a world full of pings, alerts, and “content.” It’s a practice. I had to consciously remind myself to pause, breathe, and take in the moment. Instead of reaching for my phone during a lull in conversation or a quiet moment at home, I tried to lean into the stillness. I started small— sipping my morning coffee without a podcast playing in the background, and letting myself simply be.
The benefits were subtle but overtime, wonderful. I noticed my thoughts more—what I was actually thinking and feeling without the distraction. I found it easier to focus on tasks, to sink into a book, or to truly listen when someone was speaking. And the time I used to spend scrolling? It was slowly redirected toward things that actually refilled my cup: journaling, cooking, or just staring out the window and letting my mind wander.
I’m not here to advocate that you need to delete Instagram or swear off social media forever. They can be wonderful tools for connection. But what I learned this year is that cutting the noise is only step one. The real magic happens when you face what’s left behind—the stillness, the quiet, and the opportunity to be present in your own life when we resist the urge to fill every moment.
