Leaving Instagram

reclaiming stolen peace 🕊️

I’m writing this with one hand while sitting in a rocking chair with my baby — totally nap trapped.

These thoughts aren’t strung together poetically, but more so thrown out of my brain like a bucket of water putting out a fire. I am reclaiming stolen peace.

I craved connection but ended up with my nose pressed against glass — watching everyone from the outside. I wanted community but ended up in a fish bowl — everyone watching but hearing nothing but silence.

It’s not normal, you know. It wasn’t always like this.

To view each other through glowing screens, silently watching but never really knowing each other. People used to make phone calls, write letters, check in on people they hadn’t seen in a while.

Now we can see what people are up to, what their lives look like now, without letting them know we thought of them. We can be silently nosy rather than thoughtful.

We can project our lives in such a way that that hides the flaws, the struggles, and seem like everything is squared away. And it may feel good for a while — But the haunting of never truly being known will creep up. And doesn’t everyone want to be truly known?

We’ve become addicted to being validated. For what? Our dinner choice? Is the collective hurt so much that we all need to be distracted at all hours? Never honoring a passing moment?

Everything changed for me when I had my son. I want people to know him — not see him. I want him to grow up without a distracted mother. I want to be an example for him. I want to lead a quiet life. I want to be holy.

I want him to see my face, not a phone. I want him to have my full attention. I want to cherish his childhood, every second of it.

I won’t say Instagram is a sin because that’s quite the blanket statement — but it can feel like one, can’t it? Or at least a very large gateway to one? When we boil it down to what we are doing, when we really think about it? Showing off ourselves, our lives, wanting to be seen, heard, noticed by man. Or — watching with envy, comparison, consuming things we shouldn’t be. It’s a heavy burden to carry in hopes of making connection through a glass screen.

So much would heal if we all deleted social media. If we all threw in the towel and decided to live closely again.

Knowing each other instead of just seeing each other.

Reclaiming our mental space to be a wide open field for our imagination to flourish instead of a hoarder’s house with piled up boxes full of trending Reel sounds and fit checks. Too many hours have been used up by mindlessly scrolling. Too many ads and products and opinions. I’m slamming the door closed and taking a breath — letting the quiet comfort me.

I will miss a few things, I’m sure. But I’m excited — something about it feels like rebellion. In a really good way.

I highly recommend and encourage taking a moment and reading this. The Love of Solitude and Silence — Chapter 22 of The Imitation of Christ. It’s so eloquent, divine, and absolutely fitting.

Thank you to everyone who has joined me here from Instagram — I truly value sharing my writing with you and your support means a whoooooole lot to me. I really believe this space will be special and a true home for connection.

I pray for peace, mental quietness, and a spirit of cherishing the moment you’re in for everyone who reads these words. Thank you for being here. 🤍🕊️

God bless you!

🤎 Jak

Raise your eyes to God in heaven and pray because of your sins and shortcomings. Leave vanity to the vain. Set yourself to the things which God has commanded you to do. Close the door upon yourself and call to you Jesus, your Beloved. Remain with Him in your cell, for nowhere else will you find such peace. If you had not left it, and had not listened to idle gossip, you would have remained in greater peace. But since you love, sometimes, to hear news, it is only right that you should suffer sorrow of heart from it.

— Thomas à Kempis