Is Instagram the Toxic Ex I Can’t Resist?

2 years after our breakup, we’re back together—again.

Aside from taking the biggest dumps I’ve ever seen, Instagram is never vulgar with me. He swears by his sweet community guidelines, and he always gives me the space to speak. In those ways, he’s been a reliably good partner. But in 2020, I had to walk away and delete him from my life. 

“Instagram knows me too well,” I reflected in my journal, post-break-up. “It’s like he has this weird algorithmic perception of me. I’ll be talking to my friend about how frustrating it is to fry the perfect egg, and the next thing I know he’s sending me a link to a nonstick 10-inch GreenPan with two-day shipping.” 

I felt conflicted: Finally, a man that empathizes! But also, this was kind of creepy? Not to mention, he was outright ignoring my goals to be more intentional with my money—always pushing Kim Kardashian’s shapewear or mugs with faces on them (my kryptonite!) down my throat.

Being with Instagram wasn’t just toxic to my wallet, it became toxic to my wellbeing. He relished in making me envious. Hey, babe. Did you hear who was sipping spritzes in the sun on the coast of Italy—again? 

He made me hyperaware of who liked me. Your old coworker from that summer waitressing gig that you haven’t spoken to in 3 years really liked that picture of you hiking. Maybe you should do more of that? 

He hogged all my time—and then made me feel guilty for not doing more. You’ve spent 2 hours on Instagram today. 

I could also never be myself around him. He preferred me with filters. He was allergic to vulnerability. He told the longest, 24-hour stories. And he had the attention span of a two-year-old, groaning when I wrote anything longer than 2 sentences, and messing up my captions’ formatting just to spite me. 

We had been introduced by a mutual friend in high school. We fell in love intensely, but after years of growing resentment, I finally had to make my escape. A couple months into the pandemic, I saw the chance to cut the cord. I pressed delete, happily—not heartbrokenly.

Do you know how wildly fantastic it is to reclaim the mystery of your life? To do every little thing for yourself and feel zero need to post about it? The person I became without Instagram had a lot more hobbies and a lot less screen time. I was free, glowing with JOMO and taking on my first full-time job fully present, delivering focused work and making new friends without any preconceived notions of their social media selves. My world without Instagram felt more wholesome.

Still, some friends missed our relationship. “Will you ever go back?” they pressed. “I miss Vivid!” I’d tell them I was content—noticing that I didn’t say “Hell no” but rather: “I’m good for now.” A small part of me wondered about returning. 

While apart, I felt this lingering FOMO. But it wasn’t a fear of missing out socially—I was fulfilled in that respect. It was a fear of missing out professionally. As a creative in the brand world, staying on top of social trends is an unspoken expectation of the job. Even more: You should be building your own personal brand at the same time. By breaking up with Instagram, was I hurting my career? Mentors told me I was okay. I could peruse industry websites to stay in-the-know. Plus, I had already built a “brand” with my old Instagram account, @vividtatiana, even if it was technically out of service. 

But it wasn’t just the professional pull that kept me curious about my old flame. There was a deeper desire that kept calling me back. I missed having Instagram as a place to share my creative work. I missed his encouragement, how he’d push my storytelling and help me foster new connections in the process. Instagram had even helped me land my first agency internship. Was I not giving him and our relationship enough credit? More and more, I craved his endless inspiration, his idiosyncrasies. Truthfully, I craved him. “I’m scared,” I finally confessed to my mom, “to be with him and without him.” 

When I committed to the idea of this newsletter on January 1st, 2022, I knew it meant facing this fear. I’d have to consider getting back together with Instagram because he’d give me a platform for my launch. But going back to him could also prove poisonous.

I felt like that friend we all know, the one that continues to double and triple-dip in the same unhealthy relationship, chasing that sinful high, and complaining with each inevitable crash. We do this because there is some good in going back. But we also deserve better. This time around, could there be a non-toxic, zero time-waste version of our relationship that I could ethically buy into? 

It’s possible. “If you don’t want a toxic relationship, what would be the optimal relationship?” Dr. Peter Gambino, a NYS-licensed psychologist, asked me over a Zoom call. Dr. Pete also happens to be my family friend and trusted advisor, so his guidance wasn’t just professional—it was personal, too. By pursuing optimal, Instagram and I could press pause on “treating each other with hostility and contempt.” 

Getting there won’t be easy, but I’m better equipped this time. I have the benefit of hindsight; I know what lines to draw, what battles to choose, what settings to select. Being apart made me aware of what it takes to be together. I have the means for optimization! (I have never excitedly typed that sentence in my life. This is big.) 

Last week, Instagram and I met up for the first time in years. We sheepishly smiled at each other, unsure how to navigate each other’s presence, unsure how to even be “us” again. At first, I barely recognized him. He’s become more obsessed with shopping, but he’s also a little more reflective. He said it’s totally okay if I mute him when I need to, and that he’s trying to be kinder these days. He doesn’t even insist on telling me who likes me anymore. I’m happy he’s taking on new hobbies, and excited that he’s also gotten Reel-y into video. 

Maybe Instagram’s transformation is a result of maturity. Or maybe his parents, the Metas, finally set him straight after being nationally investigated. Either way, I’m relieved. We’ve both changed for the better. We’ve decided to try again, and this might be the start of our healthiest relationship yet.

(AKA recent things that made me mildly freak out—and I did them anyway!) 

1. Rock climbing. I geared up and conquered my fear of heights at a local climbing gym. While I almost peed my pants and audibly yelped each time I reached the top, I did it. And will be going back. 

2. Self-promotion. Promoting my work makes me uncomfortable, but with the launch of this newsletter, I pushed myself to do it anyway. 

3. Cold outreach. This week, I emailed the co-founder of a company I admire a quick note of thanks. And he wrote back the same day (!!).

A Prompt to Ponder

What’s your relationship status with Instagram? How might you make it more optimal?

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Tatiana Gallardo is a writer and illustrator. Recently, a friend tried setting her up with TikTok. She’s not quite yet ready to “get back out there,” and will continue to rebuild a healthy (and open) relationship with Instagram on @vividtatiana.