Courtesy of Allison Kimsey
About three years ago, I noticed that a lot of my feed was giving me anxiety, imposter syndrome, and what I like to call "raging comparisonitis."
I was focusing on a fitness journey, but now my feed was cluttered with images of influencers with unattainable bodies hawking their protein shakes and posting clothing-free selfies in Bali.
I hate to admit this, but I definitely bought vitamins I ended up peeing out, a trendy workout outfit set because of a promo code, and an influencer's e-book.
The purchases only added to my physical and emotional clutter. The vitamins didn't make my skin glow, the workout outfit didn't make me exercise more, and the advice in the ebook I could easily Google.
So I made a choice. I needed to do some serious unfollowing, declutter my feed, and digitally clean my house.
I first posted an artistically grainy photo of my parents' cocker spaniel on Instagram on August 23rd, 2012. I garnered one like.
Those early days of slightly filtered, artistically tilted, and border-added photos feel like a bygone era.
How did it go from innocent posts of friends and food to harmful hours of what is now coined as "doom scrolling?"
For me, it started small. Just like physical clutter, building a feed that breaks down your self-esteem doesn't happen overnight. It started with a fitness and health journey.
Like most millennial women who had been sold the idea of the "bikini body," I became interested in workouts I could do without equipment and found plenty of influencers pumping out free content about exercise, eating, and health.
I would spend at least three to four hours on Instagram daily and neglect what I really cared about, like reading books and writing.
At first, I justified the time. It initially helped my fitness journey. Then, I started following accounts that focused more on the aesthetics of a fitness journey and less on the actual fitness part.
My decision to declutter my Instagram started because of my wardrobe.
I had a coming trip and was trying to create a capsule wardrobe for it. I came across Courtney Carver's "Project 333" which is her minimalist fashion challenge of dressing with only 33 items for three months.
However, it was Carver's list of "31 Days of Gifts You So Deserve," which I later found, that got me on a digital decluttering kick.
Carver's list includes items for the holiday season, like creating a relaxing playlist, having a "do not disturb" day, and — the one that resonated with me — assessing digital clutter.
In 2022, each time I saw a post that did not align with my new goal of decluttering and choosing joy, I unfollowed the creator.
My criteria were simple: any account that made me feel bad about myself didn't align with my values or didn't bring me some kind of joy got the ax. I was ruthless.
Next, I curated my feed by following new accounts, like I was attempting to curate my wardrobe. It has taken me at least a year to transform my Instagram feed into a place of joy.
I unfollowed 50 to 75 accounts, including some personal acquaintances. I also added 50 to 75 new accounts and started following hashtags with dogs, teaching tips, gluten-free baking, inspirational quotes, writing advice, artwork, or travel.
Ultimately, I didn't have to forfeit my fitness journey either. I discovered more authentic fitness accounts and a wide world of midsize fashion bloggers.
Plus, the joy I get from my feed has inspired me to try new things, like making a gluten-free crustless pumpkin pie recipe that turned out well and boosted my low self-confidence in cooking.
When I open my feed, I don't have to scroll far before I find something that makes me laugh, causes me to think, or sparks creativity.
I feel like I've recaptured a bit of what makes Instagram truly valuable — and that is seeing a video of an older Italian man going on a bike ride with his three poodles.
