Do we all secretly hate Instagram?

Or maybe it's not so secret?

All photos by Drew Blackwell

It’s been three months since I took an Instagram sabbatical for mental health reasons, and i’m yet to feel a desire to return. After creating online content for more than 12 years (majority of which has been on video), there is a profound relief in not having to be ‘on’, and not having to perform.

To be clear, there was a time when I really enjoyed Instagram, I felt like I had community there. It fed my soul, vs suffocating it. It felt creative and collaborative, but at some point it became like those annoying TV commercials that get louder knowing you’ll make a run for a toilet break during your favorite show.

The relief has come from not feeling a need to show every single thing about my life in a bid to come across as authentic or ‘real’ enough, which seems to have become the universal standard to measure women, in addition to our physical appearance. Sharing my face so close to the camera when I would do makeup tutorials started to feel a little too intimate. I worried people would see it in my eyes that this was no longer fun for me, and I was tired of being hounded in my DMs by someone demanding to know (rather aggressively) what foundation shade they should buy from Laura Mercier if they were NW25 in MAC (with no please and thank you’s I might add). I felt like Google. It was the same people who got mad if I did a sponsored piece of content who expected me to make high quality content every day without being paid. ‘I miss your tutorials’, ‘I haven’t seen you for a week’ people would let me know they were waiting. While i’m at peace being the villain in their story, it did get tiresome.

People felt the need to correct me when I applied mascara ‘the wrong way’ or to tell me how distracting my teeth were, offering up unwanted dental advice, in the guise of ‘concern’. At some point, i’m not exactly sure when, I became somewhat resentful.

The problem is, i’m good at Instagram. I know how to play the game. Back in the day we had the yellow pages, people took out ads in the paper/magazines or on TV, but how we promote ourselves as freelancers (and businesses in general) has changed. I’ve built a separate business teaching others how to use social media to their advantage, whether to share their creativity, monetize it, or do both. But what i’ve been sitting with recently, is just because you’re good at something, doesn’t mean you have to do it. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I was so drawn to teach others what I had done, because I could see how impactful it had been on my own career and I wanted everyone to have a piece of the pie.

But aside from being a helpful marketing tool, I struggle to find anyone who openly admits they enjoy Instagram, sure they’re grateful it has enabled them to make an income that has allowed them a less conventional work schedule and a different kind of freedom, but at what cost have those freedoms come?

An incredibly talented friend of mine decided to close her freelance business and return to a 9-5 job because she was tired of having to rely on Instagram to market her creative business, because that’s where the majority of her business was coming from. It was a catch 22, when she showed up on Instagram she got clients, it perpetuated the idea she had to always be on if she wanted consistent income. She made the decision Instagram could be fun for her again if she didn’t need it to make money. She’s excited at the thought of her creativity just being a hobby again, for her own enjoyment, sharing recipes, and her photography for no other reason than it would be fun for her.

I wonder how many creators are posting to Instagram through gritted teeth, navigating the intricacies of having to mold their creativity to an algorithm that demands more, more, more, in a bid to satisfy an unquenchable thirst for distraction.

To be clear this is in no way a dig at anyone using Instagram, especially when it is a part of how you make a living. There are so many incredible talented creators on instagram who make fantastic content. I’m the first to admit I have hugely benefited from Instagram when it came to building my business and creating opportunities for myself as a makeup artist, many of which I will be forever grateful, and I’m happy for anyone else who also experiences or has experienced that. I love that it has given a voice to so many people, people whose voices desperately need to be heard. It’s helped me discover ideas, people and things that have been incredibly enriching in my life. And maybe, who knows, maybe one day i’ll want to return.

However, opening up that app does something to my body physically, I find myself recoiling into a metaphorical brace position, ready to be shouted at, scolded, my ‘enoughness’ put on the chopping block.

Many would argue that Substack is no different, but I find myself able to really flush out my thoughts here. I found myself basking in the joy of long form content, both to consume and create. I’ve set my Substack to open on my inbox, vs the home page with notes, so I can focus on what I came here for…. people and topics that spark joy, pique my interest and enrich my life greatly. I really do believe there is a platform for everyone, and maybe Substack is where i’m meant to be right now. I like being able to hold a camera over my face if I feel like it, and still show my outfit. I like that I can write my words, instead of speaking them, and really take my time with what I want to say. I like that for the most part, people come here to slow down (I know I did), they come to get away from the doom scrolling and to go deeper into subject matter that interests them. They come to be satiated, and to let ideas digest, to marinate if you will.

Tommy Dixon, one of my favorite writers, shared this quote recently in one of his newsletters:

“If you only wished to be happy, this could be easily accomplished; but we wish to be happier than other people, and this is always difficult, for we believe others to be happier than they are” - Montesquieu

The above quote feels like an accurate summary of what Instagram has become. While I don’t think anyone is under any illusion that Instagram is a highlight reel, there is still a sneaky seed of doubt that gets planted (and watered) with every scroll that whispers ‘am I enough?’ Even to the most accomplished person, the most satisfied, the most sure of themselves, no one is exempt. Logically I understand Instagram is just a tool, one that can be leveraged in lots of positive ways, but I can’t deny that being off it for the past three months has impacted me positively in a huge way. I feel happier in my body. I’m more creative and I feel like I have more time than i’ve ever had before. I spend more time with IRL friends and I prioritize meeting new people. There is so much less comparison.

I bought a camera so I could capture memories without my phone. It feels good to create on my own terms, and make art/work/whatever you want to call it, that I enjoy making. I still enjoy creating studio shoots with myself as the model to accompany my writing and my ideas. I enjoy art directing in that capacity and as i’m sure many of you already know, I love getting dressed and I love seeing other people enjoy that version of self expression. I’m fascinated between the relationship we have with what we wear, and how we explore identity. Writing about these things is enough. This is enough for me today, and that’s all that matters.

It’s true, comparison is the thief of joy, but what happens when we leave the door not only unlocked, but wide open with a sign that says ‘here’s my joy’ help yourself to the thief who prays on that enoughness? Feeling enough isn’t something you will get from any app, let alone Instagram. Yet how do we open that app (metaphorically opening the door to the thief of joy) while protecting our sanity and our well being? How do we keep the thief at bay? I genuinely want to know the answer, for me and my fellow creatives.

I’m kind of in the camp right now where i’d rather have 5 subscribers who pay for my work (because while it’s work I love, it is work nonetheless) than 50,000 people following me for free, expecting me to show up everyday. Creators deserve to be paid for their work. That was the very reason I started Freelance With Freedom, because I refused to subscribe to the starving artist narrative.

Both as a makeup artist and a content creator, it has been my experience that the people who pay the least always expect the most. That was my experience of Instagram too, the more I gave, the more people expected. In some ways I think Instagram dehumanizes people into machines with an expectation to create, create, create and get very little to nothing in return. I refuse to be a machine.

It’s incredibly complex, because as my medical bills mount up, turning away from the ability to make money using my platform on Instagram feels like i’m cutting off my nose to spite my face. The confusion is very real. I could be sharing what i’m posting on Substack over on my Instagram, in a bid to generate more paying subscribers here (and while i’m not saying I won’t in the future) for now I feel resistant. (I recognize my privilege in being able to sit with it).

I’ve repurposing a lot of content in my education business and i’m grateful to past me who made all that content so that me in this season was able to slow down, and still keep the lights on to an extent. It’s proof that what I teach others works, but just because it works, the question I keep asking myself is do I still want to do it?

Time will tell, and i’m (trying) not to be in a rush to figure it out. I echo what a lot of other content creators have said here, that if I were starting from scratch in 2024 I would not put all my eggs into the Instagram basket, I would explore longer form content, and I still think having your own email list is incredibly important if you want to give yourself the most flexibility in the future.

Looking at my growth on Substack it’s been fascinating to see it grow very organically by only sharing here. (Lol it feels like I should make it clear here this is NOT sponsored by Substack, ha) Even I was fascinated to see that a lot of people who follow me here found me on Substack, and then went to visit my other platforms after, vs the other way round. I shared I was on Substack on Instagram & my YouTube channel before I left for mental health reasons, maybe in March or April of this year, but after that I didn’t mention it again there. With an audience of around 32K on instagram and 60K on YouTube, less than 100 people subscribed to my Substack, of which maybe 7 people became paid subscribers (thank you so much!).

There’s a big misconception that just because you have an audience elsewhere they will automatically follow you to a new platform. Sure they might, but nothing is a given. I didn’t start to grow on Substack until around July of this year, and that’s when I found myself wanting to write more, I wanted to create here, and I felt in a way like i’d found my people. I found other people who also were no longer on Instagram, or who were looking to both consume and create longer form content. I try not to look too much at the analytics because I want this to primarily be an outlet for my writing and creativity, but now with over 1000 people subscribed, of which over 55 are paid subscribers, (again, thank you so much!) this is where I want to be right now. I honestly think if everyone unsubscribed from this Substack tomorrow, i’d still be here, typing away and making stuff that brings me joy. After spending a lifetime people pleasing and putting everyone else first, I’m focused on making me happy. I write what I feel called too, while that’s mostly style, there will also be from time to time some random thoughts like this that I just feel called to share.

Who knows what we’ll all be saying about Substack a year from now, (please god let it stay like this) but one thing’s for sure, it’s not so much a secret how many people are over Instagram. Before I burned out I was running two businesses, making content on two YouTube accounts, two Instagram accounts, running a podcast, a TikTok account and had decided to add Substack to the mix. Even as I write that i’m like woah! There’s something incredibly freeing about putting everything on the table, and asking… does this still serve me? What would add to my life? During my depression, and as I navigate my way out of it, Substack is the only one I naturally gravitated back to, whereas Instagram I ran from.

I tell myself every day it’s just an app. They’re a business too, but if my time and energy is a commodity, I get to decide where to spend it. I get to decide how much I give away. There will always be algorithms, but going forward I will be making my own rules, if I decide to play the game again.

Thanks for reading

Harry x