It's been almost a year since I left social media completely. Instagram was my main hub for many years. I posted on it for around a decade.
I deactivated the Her Head in Films account in the summer of 2025, shortly after my mother's death. I deactivated a secondary personal account in December.
My mother's death clarified many things for me. I'd been dissatisfied with my experience on the platform for a long time.
I didn't like who or what was coming into my life through it. It felt increasingly dead and soulless.
I made the right decision in leaving. I believe that the shift to algorithmic feeds and short form video has irreparably damaged the online experience.
It has fragmented our attention and disrupted the social fabric. There is no connection to be found on social media anymore, at least not for me.
Leaving was an act of resistance. I saved my soul, but I've never felt more alone or more separate from people.
Barely anyone from the site has contacted me, reached out, or wondered about me. In a way, this has only validated my decision to leave.
It was all an illusion wasn't it? Who was I posting for? Why was I sharing? What did any of it mean? Were any of those connections real? It all goes on without me, just as life will go on when I am no longer here.
It hit me recently that my father's death was child's play next to my mother's. I do not say that lightly. His death nearly destroyed me. Her death has destroyed me.
Thank god I left Instagram because I would have been tempted to pour this pain into stories and posts. There is no consolation anyone can provide, but I would have been tempted to seek comfort in a space where it cannot be found.
Thank god I am not posting my grief in a feed next to thirst traps and AI slop and random advertising. Never again will I let my worth hinge on the likes and validation of strangers. Never again will I degrade myself or beg someone to show care for me.
Social media is not for the broken-hearted and destroyed women. I put my pain here in this blog. I don't shove it in anyone's face. I don't ask anyone to read it. I no longer expect anyone to care. I've been forgotten for the most part.
Barely anyone reads these words, I'm sure, just as barely anyone listens to the episodes I've poured my heart into for a decade. I don't belong in this world. I don't belong in algorithms.
I love this blog. I feel free here. I feel in my element. I write what I want. It's messy and emotional and maybe even silly. But my life deserves to be documented.
In some ways, I feel like a failure. I feel like I failed at finding the connection I so believed in at one time. That was the promise of social media years ago, and I fell for it like a fool.
I never wanted followers or spectators. I wanted real connection. I wanted to find friends and kindred spirits and like-minded souls. More than anything, I wanted to matter to others. I used to think maybe I did, but I don't believe that anymore.