I deleted Instagram over a month ago.
I told myself it was a reset. A digital detox. Some space to breathe and go inward.
But after 30+ days away, I had to be honest with myself:
I was addicted.
I’ve never smoked. Never been a big drinker or into drugs. I take care of my body. I’d joke that my addictions were the gym, good food, and travel.
But this month showed me something I wasn’t ready to see.
I was hooked on digital dopamine.
The check. The post. The like. The view. The DM. The feeling of being seen, being relevant, being connected.
And when Instagram was gone? My nervous system went looking for the hit somewhere else. Bumble, Raya, Hinge, X, LinkedIn, I even caught myself doom scrolling Facebook on my laptop.
The hit doesn’t care what door it walks through. It just wants in.
Maybe you know what I’m talking about.
Maybe you feel the pull to post, to stay visible, not always because you have something meaningful to say, but because you’ve been conditioned to believe that being seen is how you stay relevant. That likes and responses are some measure of your worth.
Most of us were never taught to question this. It just became normal.
And here’s what that’s created:
We are more connected than ever, and more disconnected from the people and things that actually matter.
Disconnected from our closest relationships. From ourselves. From God, from presence, from the quiet that tells us what we actually need.
The attention economy is worth trillions of dollars. The likes, the follows, the endless scroll, none of it is accidental. It’s engineered to own your attention and keep you coming back.
And while your energy is scattered across hundreds of strangers’ highlight reels, the things closest to you quietly pay the price.
Your partner. Your kids. Your work. Yourself.
All of it suffers, not dramatically, not all at once, but slowly. In ways that are easy to miss until you stop and actually look.
That’s what this detox gave me. Not just a break from the app, but a mirror.
The reflex reach at a red light. The pull between sets at the gym. Watching a sunset and thinking, I’d normally post this, then just sitting with it.
No story. No audience. No validation. Just the moment.
And I started asking better questions.
Was I sharing from purpose? Or from pressure? From flow, or from fear of being forgotten?
Before I deleted the app, real fear came up. Earlier this year I’d grown by 8,000 followers in under six months. Content was landing. And part of me thought: What if I disappear?
But here’s what this month taught me:
My power is not in the algorithm. It never was.
It’s in my presence. My clarity. My integrity. My relationship with God and with myself. That’s what people feel when they engage with my work, not my posting frequency.
If any of this lands, here’s your invitation.
Not forever. Just start small.
Leave your phone in the car at dinner. Don’t touch it between sets. Go for a walk without it. Watch a sunset without posting it. Sit with your own thoughts for a meal.
Then pay attention.
What does your body do? What does your mind reach for? How does your nervous system respond when it can’t get the hit?
That discomfort, that itch, that’s the data.
Awareness is where freedom starts. Once you see the pattern, you can choose differently.
Take your attention back. Your presence back. Your energy back.
And return to what’s actually here, your life, your relationships, yourself.
That’s worth more than any follower count.
If you’re ready to detox from digital dopamine, you can follow my 21-day protocol here
Zarak
