“Look at all these Instagram stories… selfie, selfie, another selfie. Not a single post of substance!” I grumble. “Are people that vain?”
My partner waits for me to finish, then knocks me out with a single observation: “Didn’t you use to do the same thing?”
He’s not done, “Maybe there’s a newsletter in it somewhere.”
Indeed.
My creator journey
Scroll back to my first Instagram posts in 2012 and this is typical of what you’ll find.
Being 23 is a partial excuse, but vanity was the main culprit. By my own metrics—perfect grades, prestigious scholarship, pretty boyfriends—I’d led a successful life, and I wasn’t shy to flaunt it. I was vain, and worse, I didn’t know it.
Add to this my all-consuming desire to be liked and you end up with my Instagram feed full of posed selfies and deliberately effortless snaps to show how enviable my life—then an exchange student in Paris—was.
Never mind that my feed was—and has always been—public. I was so full of myself I never spared a thought for what my captive audience might like, or not like, to see.
It took a month and a half in a psychiatric ward—the result of a severe manic episode the year of my graduation—and eleven months of the ensuing soul searching for me to realise how “success” and “being liked” couldn’t ever get me the thing I truly craved: validation.
That’s when I began the search for healthier values that I hoped would turn my life around, make my depressive and manic episodes a thing of the past.
In the meantime, I continued to post on social media. My time in the hospital had changed me—I was now overweight, unconfident, depressed—and this shift was reflected accordingly: more photos of people, of places, of things. Far fewer selfies. And when I did post one, I needed a funny caption to justify its existence.
Vanity was no longer my motivator, but what guided me I couldn’t say.
When, in 2021, super colleague and seasoned creator Comfort is for Wimps asked me what my social media strategy was, I drew a blank, then, somewhat embarrassed, cobbled together a three-page document that included, among other vague statements, “share personal photo diary with a focus on food and books” (Instagram) and “share personal story to invite engagement from friends with a focus on long text” (Facebook).
But I still didn’t really know what I was doing as a creator until, just last year, I read the mind-expanding On Writing Well by William Zinsser. I was a writer, I decided. And everything I put out into the world had to make that case.
And so my social media became a platform to showcase my writing.
But I didn’t stop there.
From vanity to value
“Showcase excellent writing” worked for a while as a strategy, but ultimately I found it wanting. It told me what to do—revise the hell out of my copy—once I’d decided on a post, but it didn’t help me choose what to post in the first place.
I stumbled upon my new, and current, strategy only earlier this year. But the path that led to it can be traced to the search for healthier values that began after my release from the psych ward almost ten years ago.
Valuing “success” and “being liked” above all else had seen me end up strapped to a metal bed. But, more importantly, they did nothing to satiate my bottomless need for validation that tormented me daily.
So I chose “healthy relationships” as my new value to live by. If I could feel genuinely loved and seen by the people in my life, my reasoning went, I would no longer need to constantly be told what a good job I was doing, what a blessing to the world I was.
So far, this seems to have worked. I still thrive on validation, but a lack of it no longer derails me. And, although I partly have medication to thank, I am also nine years clear of any depressive or manic episode.
Prioritising healthy relationships also had an unforeseen upside which would later shape my creator strategy. As I dedicated more effort to nurturing my romantic relationship and friendships, I came to ask less, “What can I do for myself?” and more “What can I do for others?”
Then I got my dream job working for my favourite author and “value” became a key word in my dictionary. Initially, this was because I was the newest hire in a four-person team, and I was constantly fearful that if I didn’t deliver value, I would no longer have a job.
As I was entrusted with more important responsibilities, the fear dissipated, but the focus on value stayed. Not just that, it spilled over into my personal life. I came to see myself—amongst other things—as a creator of value.
This self-perception, coupled with my value-driven desire to be of use to others, led me to begin asking the question that now guides my every creative decision: will this deliver value?
Everything I birth into the world—a work project, a message to a friend, a home-cooked meal—must deliver value of some kind. Every Instagram post must serve to inform or inspire, strengthen a relationship, put a smile on a follower’s face.
And of course, having now adopted value as my guiding principle, I declare it the only worthy strategy, conveniently forget the twelve years I spent posting fluff, and start maligning others for not being as enlightened as I now am.
Thank God for my partner.
What do you think?
It’s a bad habit I have. Once I decide I’m doing better in an aspect of my life—mindful living, regular exercise, healthy eating, asking for favours, saying “no” when it’s difficult—I immediately erase from memory all past versions of me that came up short.
But enough about me.
What motivates your social media practices?
Why do you post what you post? What are you trying to give? What are you hoping to get? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with all your social media friends so we can all be more intentional creators.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by your vain Val