I didn’t announce it to anyone. I didn’t permanently delete my account. I just… stopped opening Instagram.

No timer. No rules. No spiritual awakening.

Just a vague sense that I was spending far too much of my life staring at other people’s squares.

A week later, I realised something fairly obvious in hindsight:

Instagram had been taking up far more of my time and attention than I cared to admit. Always saying “I have no time”… Well now I know where my extra time was being spent.

The Time It Gave Back

Once the scrolling stopped, I had to figure out what to actually do with myself.

It turns out there’s quite a lot of time in a day when you’re not checking your phone “for a second” every few minutes.

I went for walks. Proper Irish walks. Windswept and rainy, my freshly curled hair ruined within minutes. No golden-hour glow, just sideways rain and the sound of my own thoughts for company.

I drank an impressive amount of coffee and tea.

I read. I finished one book and started another within days.

I wrote more, not constantly interrupted by the urge to check what everyone else was doing, thinking, wearing, achieving.

And I was more present with my little boy. Not half-listening while my thumb scrolled.

Actually there.

The Oddest Part

What surprised me most wasn’t how productive I became. 

It was how quiet my head felt. I hadn’t realised how much low-level noise Instagram created.

Not just the obvious scrolling, but the constant background hum of comparison, opinions, news, and lives unfolding at speed.

Even when you’re not actively scrolling, it lingers. It pulls your attention outward, away from whatever is right in front of you.

Once that stopped, I wasn’t constantly reacting. I had space to think about what I wanted to do next.

I Stopped Sharing and Started Keeping Things Private

Another small shift: I stopped sharing photos online from my walks and trips.

Instead, I printed some out and shared them with my family. No likes. No captions. Just actual photos, held in actual hands.

It felt strangely grounding, like reclaiming moments instead of broadcasting them. It made me wonder why I shared so much before.

Doom Scrolling vs Doing Things

I won’t pretend I’ve suddenly become a glowing example of self-improvement. I haven’t. But since stepping away, I’ve had more mental energy to try things that had been quietly pushed aside:

• Reading…for pleasure and research.

• Writing properly, not just in fragments, “when I had more time”.

• Moving my body more.

• Thinking about new hobbies without immediately googling how other people do them better.

I wasn’t failing at life before. I was just distracted by the online version of it.

Instagram isn’t the Villain

Hear me out, I’m not actually anti-Instagram. I love it as a platform. There’s creativity there. Inspiration. Connection.

But it’s also very good at eating time without you noticing, and at convincing you that watching other people live counts as living. Taking a break reminded me that boredom isn’t something to be feared. It’s often just the space where better ideas show up. That’s why people meditate right?!…

No Big Conclusion

I don’t know if I’ll stay off Instagram forever. I’m not making grand statements.

But I do know this: Putting my phone down gave me more of my own life back. And I feel so much better for it.

And on a very wet, windy Irish afternoon, that feels like a decent enough trade.