How Instagram Almost Ruined My Life

Insecurity, FOMO, and the other unfiltered harms that everyone’s favorite photo app can do to you.

How Instagram Almost Ruined My Life

In 2013, the phrase “you have no filter” no longer means you’re not invited to dinner parties. It just means you don’t have Instagram, an app that turns its users into monsters. Don’t get me wrong–the platform is a great way to pass the time and stare at yet more pictures of fashion bloggers in Isabel Marant sneakers on Little West 12th, staring with pouts into someone’s lens. It’s great for stalking exes or new crushes.


Instagram all started with a dog (as do most great things). The first Instagram was of a puppy. If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about what works in our digital economy, I don’t know what does.

Instagram was sold to Facebook for $1 billion in 2012. Many Instagram devotees were furious, determined that Facebook would sully the “privacy” and “intimacy” of Instagram. Neither are true, but it speaks to the power of the app’s brand–users had deep feelings about their Instagram experiences.

Is this a problem?

So what if we we are obsessed with photographing our lives, down to every first dance, every flower, every sandwich. Does this mean we have issues? Yes, says the CBC, Canada’s public television.

We are ceasing to see. Using our eyes to appreciate beauty is no longer enough. It always has to be documented for some other time–often resulting in an abyss of recordings. My first thought at a pretty sunset–where’s my phone?

This is a tremendous problem. For many reasons.

We now look at people, dinners, events as opportunities to show-pony and showcase our lives. Everyone wants fame–our gram-obsession is a slice of that.


The New York Times just wrote about how online validation creates real feeling. Maybe instead of feeling and seeing and exploring the world, we want others to tell us we’re doing a good job at it.

There is often so much “instagramming” going on at events I go to (myself included) that it can be hard to enjoy them. Sometimes I want to talk to my friends and celebrate someone’s birthday without needing to see them blow out the candles in a photo uploaded by five people in attendance.

Instagram might create a deeper issue, too–feelings of FOMO, feelings of sadness. As I alluded to in my piece about comparing yourself to others–you are comparing yourself to the perception of someone else’s glossy, Instagrammed existence. In Greta Gerwig’s movie, Francis Ha, Francis tells her best friend that her new life looks so “happy” on her blog, when in reality, she is just projecting that to others and is completely miserable.

This is how Instagram looks–like one giant party. And don’t we all want people to think that our lives are shinier than they really are? That the filters enhance and blur out things we don’t want others to see?

It’s not just about Instragram, either. All photostreams–Facebook, Flickr upping its game and improving its platform–are just two other ways to stare at photos all day. Snapchat, with the little cheeky ghost, is a photo-sharing app that self-destructs photos. It’s adored by teens and also, apparently, Wall Street guys. I think by showing our lives, we are missing out on them.


We even know how bad our photo documentation obsession has become, and yet it won’t stop.

Why read when you can look at pictures? Why look at and admire beauty when you can photograph it, invert the colors, slap on a Sierra, and share it with everyone you know?

Instagram has turned me into a filtering, snapping, cropping monstrosity.

As a navel gazer, Instagram is perfect: It’s a direct expression. It’s nearly 100% shoes, as I stare down at my navel. I also stare down at my nails, apparently. Once you become obsessed with photographing your surroundings constantly, it’s then about approval from others.

The “golden number,” as my brother calls it, is 11 likes. Once you get 11 likes on a photo, you no longer see user names, but instead you see just a number.

To add insult to injury, there are special days on Instagram. My least favorite and yet most utilized is ThrowbackThursday, which began with a photo of a car. TBT, as it’s called, is Millennial narcissism and delight at its finest, as it combines both broadcasting and nostalgia.There are even unspoken rules to #TBT, with some Instagram loyalists demanding that the photo has to be “so old” that it’s in physical form. What’s your filter of choice? Everyone has his or her own, and there have been many articles trying to dissect what your chosen filter means about you. Mine is X-Pro.


Limit yourself to a certain amount of time looking at pictures.

It’s easy to fall into what I dub the Instagram Hole: I am now looking at the photos of my ex boyfriend’s best friend’s new girlfriend’s sister’s baby (I actually tracked this). Before you know it, you’re busy looking at celebrities’ selfies and drowning in a sea of summer Hamptons-share-house pictures. (Red solo cups look best without a filter.)

Go play outside without your phone.

Maybe try sharing beauty with a person. Or yourself. The best filters are your eyes, so stop looking down and see the world.

Meredith Fineman is the founder of FinePoint Digital PR. You can read more of her writing here.

[Image: Flickr user Godolphin]