What if I delete Instagram tomorrow? People who have done it describe how their lives have changed
"I woke up this morning for the first time without reaching for my phone. I just lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling. After a long time, I felt calm. That's how Honza (28) describes the moment he opened Instagram for the last time. Four months have passed since then. Without much gesture, he deactivated his account then - without regrets, without any plan to return.
Today he works as a freelance UX designer and spends his evenings reading or going to the cinema instead of scrolling. "In retrospect, I realize how much time I wasted," he says. "And how much I was influenced by what I saw there."
Less networking, more life
A University of Pennsylvania study confirms that frequent use of platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat increases feelings of loneliness. Limiting time spent online, on the other hand, is good for mental health.
Honza agrees. Really. Suddenly I didn't have to build any digital image of myself. I didn't have to share, react, compare."
But it's not just simple. Social networks are ingrained in everyday communication. "The hardest part was telling my friends. Many only functioned through Instagram. When I texted them, they thought it was weird," he laughs. "One friend told me I looked like I had voluntarily moved out of town."
Lucka: Offline out of compulsion
Unlike Honza, Lucka (24) came to this differently. "I didn't plan it. I lost my phone on the train. And with it, access to everything - Instagram, Messenger, WhatsApp. The first few days were like withdrawal," she admits.
At first, she missed knowing what was going on where. "I was nervous. I felt like I wasn't part of the world. I felt like I was missing the train. But then... for the first time in a long time, I sat on a park bench and just looked around. I wasn't in a hurry. Nobody asked me to do anything. It was strangely beautiful."
It took her two weeks to get a new phone. But she didn't reinstall Instagram. "I found I didn't want to go back. The more I was offline, the more I realised how overwhelmed I was before - even though I didn't want to admit it."
Today, she's taking ceramics classes, reading more and going on weekend trips without the need to share everything. "The record stays in me, not in Stories," she smiles.
Online - but alone
Research confirms that people need real interpersonal relationships. Personal contact releases hormones like oxytocin, which naturally relieve stress and boost happiness. Virtual connection doesn't offer this - yet we prefer it.
"Instagram for me was all about not missing out. The FOMO was real," says Honza. "But over time, I've come to understand that most content is a nicely staged illusion. The reality looks different."
He says watching other people's "perfect lives" led to feelings of inferiority, frustration and sometimes depression. "Even though we know rationally that most photos are edited and idealised, our psyche often ignores this," he says.
Shutting down doesn't mean running away
Honza doesn't consider himself a digital detox missionary. "I don't want to convince anyone. But I feel I have more space in my head. I don't switch between reality and what's running on the screen."
Social media itself isn't bad. They can be a valuable tool - for connecting with loved ones, finding communities or expressing one's identity. But the line between utility and addiction is thin. Especially for younger people, it can grow into a problem that seriously affects mental health.
Zdroj: Giphy"Maybe I'll come back some day. But only if it's a conscious decision - not because I'm afraid of missing out," concludes Honza.
And so now he sits with me in the café. No phone in hand, no flat white photo on Stories. Just sitting. Looking around. And breathing.
No one's flattered him. But it doesn't matter.
