Instagram deleted (again!)

Scrolling sucks the soul out of us so why and how do we let it happen?

I know scrolling is not good for me.

I know scrolling sucks the soul out of me and leaves me with brain mush.

I know that spending hours on Instagram means I am not spending that time doing what truly lights me up.

Is it time to delete (again!) Photo by Shutter Speed on Unsplash

So why?

Why do it?

I don’t need to tell you about the billions of dollars spent on investing in algorithms and features designed to keep you hooked. It’s bloody hard to stay away because the chemical reactions in our body show how addiction takes hold.

But after the last few weeks of being extremely worried about my mum’s health, which wore me down sufficiently to allow me to catch a cold last week, I haven’t felt like doing anything more in my ‘spare time’ than scroll.

It’s easy.

Step one: pick up the phone.

Step two: pointer finger finds app; no conscious thought or instructions needed.

Step three: pointer finger clicks on reels.

Step four: scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll.

This morning I woke feeling groggy. I’ve had some good sleeps the last few days, but I wake up sluggish because my body is still craving more.

It’s Friday.

I’ve got no need to be out of bed quickly today, so I make a cup of tea, go back to bed WITH MY PHONE.

After 90 minutes (yes … really 90 FUCKING MINUTES!), I’ve realised my reels are now showing me conspiracy theories about Kirk’s wife (and I’m starting to believe them), comedians poking fun at Trump’s UN visit (they are funny!), and lifestyle gurus teaching me the latest breathwork techniques that promise to regulate me FOREVER.

Oh my fucking god.

Something distracts me, and I realise my doomscrolling has hit an all-time low.

I delete Instagram app off my phone.

I can’t allow that to control my upcoming weekend.

I share this because I know I am not alone.

When I’m feeling on fire, focused and have a clear direction, I hardly check in on Instagram. A quick check of the notifications each day and whether anyone (anyone???) has sent me a DM.

I’m in control.

But worry about my mum - who we now know needs another hip operation, and at 84 years old, that’s not the news you want to hear - for weeks on end, and I’m distracted.

Worry eats away at you.

Especially when you don’t really know what you are worrying about, and you’re waiting to see a consultant to tell you what’s going on.

And that’s where Instagram gets me.

Every bloody time.

Earlier this week, I began the One Thousand Women journey led by Nicola Bird. I’m not seeking to be an activist or campaigner, but I know I need to surround myself with inspiring women to help me rise up to my bigger picture thinking.

I realised that being a writer is my way of change making.

Through the first two sessions, I saw that I already knew what I wanted to do, but I had allowed distractions such as Instagram to suck the life out of me. I had been spending too much time giving of myself to others’ content (and not terribly insightful or construction content at that - entertainment at best, conspiracy crap at worst!), and I wasn’t making the commitment to writing that I had been saying I wanted to all summer.

Other pokes came from various stuff online to see that Tuesday just gone was the last 100 day milestone of the year. Yup, as of today, there are 97 days left of 2025.

Am I going to spend those 97 days wasting away on Instagram?

Fuck no?!

Will I spend my time writing here on Substack?

Fuck yes!

So I am writing this today in case you need this wake-up call, too.

Have you allowed the Meta drugs to infiltrate your nervous system?

This isn’t about deleting accounts forever, but an opportunity to change your finger habits so that you can redirect your energy to more useful, impactful and purposeful activities.

Thank you for allowing me to release this shame and disgust, as writing about it openly here helps me to let it go and move forward.

Will I put Instagram back on my phone again? Sure, why not.

But not right now.

Let me go cold turkey and reset my internal wiring.

I don’t need that shit in my system right now.

How about you? Are you ready to delete Instagram (again!)?

Or are you in control?

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Thank you for reading Midlife Shapeshifting. My name is Karen Skidmore, and I write for women in their 50s, 60s and beyond who are using post-menopause to shapeshift into new versions of themselves. Women who sense that these years are not an ending, but a new beginning. If you like this article and want access to future ones, subscribe today.