I’ve been around long enough to see social media platforms come and go, and trends repeat themselves. I’m from the generation that grew up with Bebo, Hi5, Myspace and MSN, then moved to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat. So I’ve seen a fair bit of change. It wasn’t even called social media back then; I swear they were just social networks.
If I could tell my younger self what social media would become, I don’t think I’d believe it. I remember when it felt simpler: a place to keep in touch with friends and family, share pictures, post something funny and have a laugh together. There was something enjoyable about sharing a moment without worrying about how many people it would reach or how much money it could make.
That side still exists, but so much of what I see now feels like a cash grab or a competition for attention: who can trend the most, say the most outrageous thing or turn an ordinary moment into something people will watch and share? Sometimes it feels like most people are putting on a show.
I wonder what that does to us over time. When attention becomes a form of validation, likes, views and comments can start carrying far more weight than they should. Your mood begins to depend on how people respond to you, or you find yourself comparing your everyday life to the best bits of someone else’s. I can see how that pressure affects how we feel about ourselves, especially when it follows us everywhere through a screen in our pockets.
I also question what it’s doing to our attention spans. With TikTok and its endless stream of short videos, there’s always something else a swipe away. How often do we sit down to watch a show or film, only to pick up our phones halfway through? We’ve already chosen something to watch, yet somehow we’re still searching for more.
Beyond our attention spans, I think about how much of the present moment we give away. You can be somewhere you’ve wanted to go, surrounded by people you love, and still be thinking about what to record or post. Sometimes it feels like we’re already planning how to show everyone a moment we haven’t finished experiencing ourselves.
I say that because I’ve done it. Back in the Snapchat days, I’d pull my phone out and record things for the sake of it. I look back on those memories fondly, and I’m glad I have them. But I also wonder whether I would have enjoyed those moments more if I’d put my phone away sooner and simply been there.
These days, I’m a private person. I have been for God knows how long. I hardly post pictures or share my life unless I actually feel like it. In fact, my writing is probably the only thing I share online. I don’t even do happy birthday posts anymore. It wasn’t an intentional decision, and I don’t have any hard feelings towards anyone. I just got so used to hardly posting that those posts stopped too; by the time I remembered to post, it would’ve been too late. If you’re my people, you’re getting a call, a message or a FaceTime from me. Forget social media – you’ll hear from me directly.
I think that’s also why I struggle with how public everything has become, even kindness. It’s good to see people helping others and sharing it can encourage others to help. But when someone says they’re acting out of the kindness of their heart while recording another person’s vulnerable moment… I won’t lie, I look at them sideways. I wonder whether that person wanted their situation shared with the world. Being helped shouldn’t mean becoming someone’s content. Would the same act of kindness still happen if the cameras weren’t rolling? Who’s to say?
I want to be clear: this isn’t a dig at anyone who creates content. It takes guts to put yourself out there and share what you’ve worked on, knowing people will have an opinion. My cousin and my closest friend, who’s basically my sister, are content creators. Shout-out to Hads and Mo. They’re the best at what they do, and I’m super proud of them. I can appreciate their creativity and dedication while still questioning my own relationship with the platforms they use.
Because if I’m honest, at this point in my life, I’m leaning towards hating social media. I hate the pressure, the performance, and how easily it takes up time I could spend being present.
The strange part is that I’m still a consumer. I still scroll. I still give my attention to the very thing I’m questioning. Awareness hasn’t automatically made me stop.
People have told me I should post my writing on socials more, and even that makes me hesitant. I want to share something that means something to me, but I’m unsure how. I don’t want to make too much of myself available in the process. Writing is personal, and putting it out there feels different from keeping it to myself. Still, I post it on my website.
I haven’t quite worked out where that leaves me. There are memories I’m glad I recorded, people I’m glad I can keep up with and things I might never have discovered without social media. I’m grateful for all of that. But I also know how often I reach for my phone for no reason, and how much of my time disappears once I do.
I want to be more deliberate about what I share and more present for what I choose to keep private. I want to enjoy a conversation without reaching for my phone and let a good moment happen without deciding whether to post it.
When I look back on my life, I want to remember how it felt to be there. And that means being there now.