Scrolling Away Self-Worth
How Instagram Shapes (and Warps) Our Motherhood Stories
You know that moment when you finally crash on the sofa at night; there’s not enough time to pop on a movie, and you’re feeling done with the day, so you open up your phone and have a “little" scroll before you go to bed.
And in 10 minutes flat, you’re wondering why you feel dejected, morose, and ugly.
I’ve made myself victim to the scroll hole more times than I can count, even though I know better. As a marketer, I’ve studied the psychology of social networks in depth. I know what they’re doing and why, yet they still lure me in.
Instagram in particular is an interesting beast. I never feel better about myself when I leave the app than when I opened it. Why is that? Well, that’s what this post is about.
Instagram is what Joe Federer dubs a “Superego Network”, which means it’s a place where:
we’re usually identifiable as our offline selves, have some connection to some of the people we know offline, and simultaneously have the potential to reach an entire network of people we don’t yet know. (emphasis added)
And it’s the bolded part of the sentence above that makes it the place I loathe to be.
Instagram splits us into two people: our offline self and a representation of ourselves. These may be so different from one another that we dread meeting a “follower” in real life because we’ll be found out. The platform changes how we show up—and not in a wholesome way.
Whether we know it or not, we create a profile on Instagram to create a visual, “Superego” identity that shares a representation with the world of who we want to be (not who we truly are).
We can tend to become more proud of or attached to the representation of self we’ve curated on Instagram than the awkward warts-and-all personality we have in the unscripted mess of real life.
We’re not intentionally lying about who we are. But through Instagram, we curate images and snippets that falsely represent our true reality. Our whole life is a vast tapestry of ups and downs, yet the highlight reel we project to our followers conveniently omits that fact.
We show positive moments, idealistic beliefs, motivational quotes, and moments in an attempt to elevate our social standing.
As a non-digital-native who got her first computer at age 24 and started out on an “Ego Network” (Facebook), where my online friends all knew me in real life, I have the context to understand that Instagram represents something far from reality.
I know that the fit, beautiful mothers in floral dresses who work out 3 times a day, homestead, cook all their meals, and perfectly parent their children every minute of every day are a lie. They’re part of an echo chamber that result from “interactions among people’s representations of themselves.” I know this isn’t a true image of the real world. And yet this still affects my confidence and self-worth (when I participate in the ‘Gram game in my weak moments).
But what about younger kids? Those who have only known Instagram? What is the effect on young girls, whose first foray into social media involves creating a perfect representation of themselves and putting this out into the world? A representation based off pop culture, celebrities, and overt sexuality? A representation whose measure of success is based on popularity, “follower count” and likes?
If I am affected by Instagram negatively in just 10 minutes use, I dread to think of the effect on kids with unrestricted usage and whose brains aren’t developed enough to understand what these apps represent.
Instagram has us curating ourselves to the perfect ideal of who we want to become. Social standing is the name of the game. Credibility is determined by “follower count”, popularity, post engagements, trends, views, and how influential our networks are.
In places like Facebook, there’s a mutual relationship. You’re my friend and I’m yours. If I embellish the truth to my network made up of mainly offline friends, they’ll lovingly roast me and bring me back to reality.
But when the relationship is one-sided—where anyone can follow me and I have no obligation to follow you—and a majority of others only know my projected “ideal self”, I can embellish away without consequence.
…in Superego space, we owe it to our followers to represent ourselves in ways that are compelling and interesting, even if that means embellishing at times.
On Instagram, no one needs to know about your vulnerabilities, anxieties, or challenges. Just snap a pic or 5 second video that makes you look good to those you want to impress.
What do you notice about Instagram?
The posts and videos are aesthetically pleasing, filters gleefully plump and sculpt our faces to erase the wrinkles, freckles, and stories that make us, us.
Even though I don’t use these filters, seeing others use them fuels my not-enough-ness. They have me compare my skin to other people's skin. Compare my life to other people's lives. But it’s probably not even real. How do we know any more whether a video we’re watching is real?
And our profiles only show a portion of what we’re experiencing. They're a highly curated snapshot. And viewing them has us feel like we should be something else.
What’s interesting is:
The most-followed fitness influencers on Instagram aren’t those with the most practical knowledge or the people who went from being reasonably out of shape to being reasonably in shape. They’re the most ludicrously fit (or at least ludicrously fit-looking) people on the planet.
What does this tell us?
Well, it tells me that mediocre isn’t good enough. And also that humans enjoy seeing the potential of what we could become. But I question whether watching ludicrously fit influencers on Instagram encourages us to become that or whether it’s more likely to negatively affect our mindset, worth, and confidence. Because that's how I feel when I'm using Instagram. Perhaps you’ve felt the same.
The duck faces, the pouting, the perfect clothes and houses. I feel like because some people do that, others feel like they need to do it as well. Falsity breeds hyper-falsity. And curation breeds hyper-curation. When does it end?
And even though I know that I don't have to do that, I sometimes feel lesser than if I don't.
It’s hard to be more of what I am when I perceive that will never be good enough.
Yes, I want to build a homestead and live on the land. That's a big goal of mine and many of my friends. Some people have made this their reality and share their journeys with us on Instagram. A great example of people sharing this is inside what’s dubbed the “trad wife” movement.
Hannah, the woman behind one Instagram account, Ballerina Farm, has 10 million followers. Her account is a projection of perfection. This isn’t to demonise her, she's (possibly) just living her life authentically. But I’d venture to say I’m not the only woman who’s experienced her posts as highlighting what I don't have in my life. And has had me, at times, living in another woman’s world instead of being okay with what I do have. Which is a lot. And I’m very happy.
In some ways, I love following this woman because it's great to see that she's been able to create such perfection in her life (or has she?).
In other ways, it feeds my not-enough-ness. She's baking and cooking from scratch all the time. She shares recipes which have me think to myself, “Oh, I should be cooking more, I should have more food on hand, I should be milking a cow outside. If I buy my food from the shop, maybe I'm lesser than.”
It’s important to say here that she's not telling me that. These are the stories that I make up in my own head as a result of her sharing her life. It’s not her responsibility to protect me. I know that.
And, at the same time, she's wearing a floral dress and an apron, her hair is done, and she’s got makeup on, which makes me want to do that too. But I look down and I've got hubby’s old woollen socks on which are covered in rogue hair, my 3 year old nursing bra is hanging out of my dress which is too long because I haven't had it altered yet, I haven't put any makeup on today because I haven't had a chance, and I haven’t washed my hair for five days (or had it cut in six months).
And so, I see her and I think all these things. That's not her intention. It's my story that I'm in charge of. It's in my head. But I question whether this is valuable for me or not.
I see her house. It's the perfect homestead. She's got eight children who she seems to birth and parent effortlessly. Her kids help in the kitchen. Her house is clean. She's got all the gadgets that one might want. She has beautiful land and animals, and a husband that loves her, and she represents what my idea of perfect may be.
She makes motherhood look elementary. And that's triggering because sometimes I find it exceedingly hard.
She's not doing it intentionally, but this is the kind of environment that Instagram creates. It's a representation, not reality. But because we see people like this who have just birthed their eighth baby at home, and are now milking the cows, and seemingly cooking a hundred meals a day in a perfectly clean kitchen with a $30,000 stove, that we think we have to do that too. And also that there’s something wrong with us if we’re not.
I'm not having a dig at Hannah because I love that she's created this life. This is all about me.
Thankfully on Instagram, there are other women who are counterbalancing this. There’s definitely not enough of them in my feed for it to curb the perfectionism, but I want to see more of them!
I wonder if it’s a great use of my time comparing my life to others. Actually, I know it’s not. Because for every second I’m comparing my life to someone else’s I could be living my own wholeheartedly.
When I’m stuck in comparison, I’m focused on the gap in my life, rather than the gain (here’s a great book on this topic). What use is there being focused on what I don't have and highlighting the triggers that I have? (I’m all in for highlighting my own triggers in other areas. This one, I don’t feel is so useful.)
I mean, Hannah was a professional ballerina. She's got eight kids. She's got a farm. She was Mrs. American 23. Yes! She's also a bloody beauty queen. It's like, fuck, how “perfect” can we get?
To reiterate, it's not about her as a human. It's about the archetype of this perfect woman that is projected for us to be. So much so that there are now many other iterations of this archetype on Instagram. Like Gretchy.
In her account, Gretchy Adler talks about nourishing the family with real, whole, unprocessed foods, and raising healthy children. She's another (likely) triggering representation of what a mother’s “supposed” to be.
She represents the “perfect mother”. But what I feel I’d like to see more of is a wider representation of the “good enough mother”.
The phrase "good enough mother" was first coined in 1953 by Donald Winnicott, a British pediatrician and psychoanalyst. Winnicott observed thousands of babies and their mothers, and he came to realize that babies and children actually benefit when their mothers fail them in manageable ways. (I'm not talking about major failures, such as child abuse and neglect, of course.)
Winnicott's believed “that the way to be a good mother is to be a good enough mother. Children need their mother (or primary caretaker) to fail them in tolerable ways on a regular basis so they can learn to live in an imperfect world.”
In short, building our children's resilience is the gift of the good enough mother.
One of the most refreshing parts of the “good enough mother” is that she’s all that we can be. Perfection isn’t an option.
it's just not possible to meet every single one of our child's needs, whether it's another bowl of macaroni and cheese, a desire to cover the wall with marker, or a wish to stay up all night watching Dora episodes.
It’s music to my ears (and hopefully yours) that “even if it were somehow possible to be the perfect mother, the end result would be a delicate, fragile child who couldn't tolerate even the slightest disappointment. No mother wants that for her child.”
Despite what your or my brain may tell us, these women on Instagram are definitely not perfect mothers. No one is.
So I fully support anyone who is “normalising the normal,” as Beth Grace Casaurang says on her Instagram account.
She's in her “stay at home mom era” and talks about how normal it is to live in a non aesthetic home, wear normal clothes, have newly greying hair, and a botox-free face.
What’s interesting is that this is a tiny corner of the internet, with Beth having a list of 75,000 followers, compared to a whopping 10 million for Hannah. The proof is in the pudding that people spend time on Instagram as voyeurs; to follow the superego version of the ideal self.
Which means, if you want to succeed on Instagram, especially as a business owner, it means you need to play the fame game. Ham it up. “Influence” people.
And that’s just not me. That’s not what I want. And also why I don’t feel good when I spend time there.
When I follow women who create a representation of the “perfect mother”, I’m equal parts inspired and dismayed. And others are too.
Their posts can be received as both, “Wow, mum goals! This is good info and resources, maybe I'll prioritise this more.”
And also, “Oh, eff off, you’re shaming me because it's not realistic for me to be able to do that.”
As usual, the middle is really where it's at. The balanced, healthy viewpoint is, “Yeah, we'd all love to be able to do that. And there are certain circumstances that allow us or don't allow us to live like that. And that’s ok. It doesn’t mean anything about my worth as a human or mother.”
There are so many circumstances in each individual mother’s life that allow or prevent her to be this this way—despite perhaps wanting to. It's not black and white. It's oodles of grey.
Sure, I would love to spend much of my time cooking in the kitchen because I really enjoy it. I love cooking for my husband and my daughter. I get such a thrill out of cooking and seeing my family enjoy the food I make. It’s one of my most favourite feelings.
At the same time, I often feel like I'm not doing enough of it. And I question whether that's coming from me internally or whether it's coming from me following women who bring out those emotions for me. I think it’s both.
Instagram amplifies the wounds and insecurities I already have and spits them back out at me via cute photos and perfect videos from women who push all my buttons.
The crux of it is this: I don't feel like Instagram is a healthy place for me.
It doesn’t nourish me.
Instagram prioritises polarising content as it fuels discussion, which then has people spending more time on the platform, which then allows Instagram to make more money through advertising. It’s all part of the game plan.
The more content we consume or comment on, the more the algorithm decides, “okay, well, you're interested in that. I'm going to give you more of that.” And so we find ourselves in a torturous echo chamber where we enjoy part of what we’re seeing, but also start to feel more and more less than as time passes.
As these stories get richer and more reinforced inside our mind, we start believing certain things that aren't really true.
I haven’t even mentioned the ads on Instagram yet.
They’re incredible at triggering the part of me that wants to be and do more.
It's like, yes, I want to work out more. What mother doesn’t want to work out and feel better about herself?
Then there's a collagen face mask that’s in my feed constantly. And it’s particularly tempting to purchase it on days where I notice the deep concentration lines between my eyes showing.
And then, I see the Natural Face Bible lady, who just happens to look 20, but she’s 50. And she tells me, “you can do it the natural way”. Just cover your face with tape at night or buy this fucking Japanese seaweed shit to put on your face and then you won't look like an old hag like you do now (I’m pretty sure they were her exact words…). 🫠
And then I see women selling body suits, snatching their waist in and I start to wonder if I should do that because I feel a little bit insecure about how round my once-flat tummy is since I birthed my baby.
Throw on top of all that an ad for Wrinkles Schminkles, a silicon contraption I can stick on my face while I'm sleeping to turn back the pesky clock.
It’s a constant stream of not-enoughness.
An endless trap on that app. And I ask myself, how does being there help me? How is it bettering my life?
Well, of course it IS helping me become highly aware of the reasons why I'm triggered by these ads or products. It highlights my lack of self-worth and self-compassion. And also brings to the surface many emotions I might otherwise have buried beneath.
The power of this app astounds me. I don't even spend much time on Instagram. I always set a 10 minute timer if I open the app. Many times, I'll leave before that time is even up because there's no substance for me there.
But why do I continue to return to it? Am I some kind of masochist?
No, I’m just a human, a mother, and an online business mentor who was told she “needs” a presence on Instagram to grow her brand.
But, I’m also a rebel. Which is why I’m seriously considering deleting my presence on other social platforms now I’ve found that Substack provides the depth, substance and community I’ve sought for so long.
Immediately when I arrived here, I discovered it is filled with people like me who have had enough with all the bullshit, the constant selling, the inauthenticity, and the superego selves.
With Substack, I can go deep in 10 minutes on an article about something I'm interested in. I can learn something. I can connect with other humans with the same interests as me on an authentic level. It's not a projection. And it’s not a waste of my time.
It's creativity. And collaboration. There’s a depth and substance that is severely lacking on all of the other social media platforms.
I thought there was something wrong with me. Like, why do I feel so invisible? Why don't people understand me?
And the answer is, they do, you were just in the wrong place.
Substack is my new playground. It’s where people pour their hearts out and write for the sake of writing, not to please the algorithm or to sell something.
It feels like home. It's wholesome. And this is where I want to spend my time. With people who have the same values as me, who share their heart and what's going on for them truthfully from the depth of their being.
Now, if you’re reading this, I’m talking to you! You’re my kind of person and the reason I feel so grateful to be here. Substack is just about being you. And in a world of superficiality, that feels so refreshing.
If I am to become the best version of me—which is the ultimate driving force of my life—then why would I keep doing something that doesn’t align with my goal?
Time to adjust the sails and keep moving forward. ⛵️
With love,
Aimee
x
References
Blockquotes in this article are taken from The Hidden Psychology of Social Networks by Joe Federer
Also referenced, this article about the Good Enough Mother.
I love so many of your reflections here I kept pausing and thinking about commenting in response to individual points, but kept reading. Your insights are so potent and, in my view, accurate. Thank you for letting us witness you ❤️ this is exactly why I'm here - wouldn't see this kind of depth and transparency on FB or ig.
I 1000 million percent agree. I wrote this article about my experience of quitting social media. https://open.substack.com/pub/michelledixonwriter/p/i-quit-social-media-for-nearly-3?r=heoec&utm_medium=ios
Right now I use Instagram to share my Substack articles. I’m not even on Facebook anymore. I don’t miss it at all but it sucks a little bit because it seems like I’m missing out on some social events that some of my women friends seem to only promote to each other on Facebook. Yet at the same time, it was really compromising my mental health.
Like you, I have battled with a kind of comparison game that I knew wasn’t valid or meaningful, but it kind of got me sucked into the sense of what I should be doing. Substack has been an absolute revelation for me. I’m allowed to write whatever I want. There are people who read my writing and actually like it and engage with it.
Have so much to say about it! I never heard of that Instagram account you mentioned with the woman with eight kids, but I found myself getting sucked into that too even though my three children are already young adults …. it taps into a part of me that longs for some kind of ideal lifestyle. Which is hilarious as I am menopausal and again, have three young adults, who are, incidentally, absolutely amazing humans despite the less than Instagram worthy childhood that they had!
Great to see you on here and I look forward to more content !