“You’re so mysterious” is not the compliment you think it is — at least, not to somebody who bears the mental health consequences of deleting social media. My screen time may be low, but so is my social stamina. As we enter Mental Health Awareness Month, anti-social-media rhetoric could convince you to hang up your social media accounts for good. But wait! I have a confession that may stop you: The analog life is not as romantic as it sounds.

My story is relatively dramatic: During the 2020 pandemic, I bid an Irish goodbye to Instagram, TikTok, Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook, and even Pinterest. While my peers reacted to the looming isolation of COVID-19 with an urgent desire to feed their online connections, I starved myself of a digital presence to rebrand myself in private. Six years later, I’m still offline and can say, “Yes, I’ve changed,” but not all for the better.

Admittedly, it doesn’t hurt to touch grass. Without social media clutter, my mind became euphorically clear, and my days felt a whole lot longer. I could actually act on my own bucket list instead of daydreaming through online content. In short, I felt free.

But even freedom has its shortcomings. In tight high school social circles, it was easy for me to adopt the highly-complimented offline persona without sacrificing any of my childhood friendships. Come brand-new college town, I fell right in line with our “UC Socially Dead” rap … a match made in hell. The benefits of my freedom were outnumbered by the sheer number of social opportunities — group chats, event announcements, and “close friends” stories — I missed out on. I should’ve made the call to reevaluate my priorities at this point, but I was too stubborn.

Whether it’s “adult loneliness,” “post-grad depression,” or whatever else you’d like to call it, the throughline is that adulthood merits your own social responsibility. Generation Z should be especially concerned with this task because of our notorious mental health crisis. It is no longer worth it to chase the pitfalls of solitude and call it maturity. The most radical move you can make as an adult is nurturing your long-term happiness in community.

I used to scorn social media for its performative nature — aesthetic curation, self-presentation in a digital portfolio, and follower counts bumping people onto pedestals all itched at my skin. Yet, after I graduate this quarter, I’ll be living across the country, in Georgia, without access to my friends either on social media or in real life. I can’t get rid of this sinking feeling that iMessages alone will not be sufficient in holding these friendships together. 

“Comparison is the thief of joy” only rings true if you use social media as a competitive platform. There’s a fine line between sharing your success and aggrandizing it — think of LinkedIn — and it comes down to social health. Are you posting to inspire the greater good? Or, be honest, do you secretly wish to be perceived as a nonchalant superstar? I’ll hold your hand when I say this: The answer is usually obvious. So, double check that you’re using social media with a social intention and not an egotistical one.

I’m aware that it’s hypocritical to decisively stay off social media and then complain about how lonely I am. I bet some of you are rolling your eyes and saying, “Just redownload social media already!” 

In the spirit of this piece, I paid a short visit back to the digital world before finding out that it had developed far beyond me. Within hours of checking out Instagram, my unfamiliarity with its most recent interface sent me on a spiral right back to the deletion page — exactly where I was six years ago. I think my window to rejoin social media has closed, and that’s certainly a complicated loss to mourn. 

If you’ve built up a social empire, please maintain it! And if the apps start to bug you or your schedule, you can always retreat to a social media cleanse for a day or even a week. Whatever you do, don’t throw it all away.