A month ago I followed my daughter’s lead and deleted my Instagram app from my phone. That led me to find out what connection really means to me and how I can do it better, without social media.
Mary announced she’d deleted the app during MIdwinter break. She’d committed to it for a week because, according to her, “I spend too much time scrolling.” I’d never been one to spend a lot of time on Instagram, but I understood what she meant.
I use Instagram because I want to stay connected. I like seeing what’s happening with my family. I see posts about my sister’s family visiting Central Oregon, nieces and nephews at college, and my cousin’s family in France (Ishe married a Frenchman, has two adorable French-American sons and posts beautiful pictures of their adventures). I like seeing what’s up with friends I don’t see very often. Friends who live on Bainbridge Island, friends in Oregon, and the East Coast. Even my dear friend who’s right here in West Seattle, but whom I still don’t see as often as I’d like.
Despite my desire to stay connected, I decided to follow Mary’s lead, and I deleted Instagram. At this point it was less of a commitment. It felt good because it meant I wasn’t supporting Meta (aka Facebook). There have been news stories about former employees who say Meta ignores important data about the harmful effects their algorithms are having (e.g. emphasizing diets and extreme weight loss with girls) and lack of action against people and communities proliferating information known to be false (2020 election was stolen). So, deleting it felt good. But it would leave a gap.
How would I stay connected to friends and family? I’m not very good at reaching out. Instagram had given me a way to quickly, on my terms, see what was going on in their lives. How would I fill the gap?
The answer turned out to be really simple.
One night, I sat on my couch after dinner. A blanket draped over my legs and Freddy, our orange and white cat, curled up in my lap. I’d been thinking about one of my friends, wondering how she was doing. I think about my friends often, but normally I let the thoughts come and go. This time I picked up my phone and sent her a text. “Hey, thinking about you and wanted you to know it. Hope you’ve had a good day and week!” I thought of another friend. I texted her something similar, but not quite the same. I texted two other friends. Different words, but the same message – I’m thinking about you.
Those four people are important to me, and it felt good to tell them so.
One friend responded right away. We went back and forth for a while, sharing updates about each of our lives. I learned a lot in those few minutes. Some of what she shared I probably could have learned on Instagram. But I also learned stuff that’s not posted anywhere. She told me it had been a tough day because she was struggling with a couple of things. She thanked me for reaching out. It had made her feel a bit better.
Another friend responded. She asked, “You up for a call?” I hadn’t talked with her in almost two years. “Sure!” My phone rang. When I picked up and heard her voice a smile spread across my face. It had been too long. We diligently shared updates on each family member. She’s good about that – she makes sure to check in on everyone. And she remembers scary details. Like my kids’ birthdays. I couldn’t even guess at her boy’s birthdays. She talked about her husband. He’s in law enforcement and it’s been a tough two years (“defund the police”). We hung up at about 10:30 pm. It was late for a weeknight, but my heart was full. I felt more connected to these friends in one evening than I had in years of following their Instagram posts.
That night, I understood something I’d been trying to figure out. Why staying up to speed on social media doesn’t fill my cup.
On social media, people only post the good stuff. Happy gatherings, dinners out with friends, traveling, funny anecdotes. Everyones’ smiling. It’s beautiful and fun to see. But what about the rest? Where are the stories about the days that don’t go so well? I don’t feel happy all the time. To feel connected to someone, I want to see all of their sides. I want to share all of my sides.
The algorithms are a problem, too. One day I’d scroll through a few posts, like some of them, and the next time I checked in, the algorithm had adapted and focused all of my posts on the sites I’d liked last time. Friends and family who didn’t post very often were deprioritized. I’d spend time looking for them, scrolling and scrolling, passing the ads and the multiple posts by the same person. I was spending more time navigating than connecting.
That night I learned that I can stay connected, and I can do it better without social media.
I’m not using social media to connect to friends or family anymore. I’m going to use my good old fashioned phone. I’m going to reach out and say “hello” when the thought comes to me. Texting lets me do that without interrupting them. And, if they’re available, maybe we’ll make time for a live chat.
The Frampton Clan 