90 days of Instagram

It was January 2020, a year that would bring many changes I didn’t know were coming.

Like everyone else, I had set my goals for the year. I even recorded a video about them, but I’ve never had the courage to watch it. Maybe one day I will, just to see where my mind was at that time.

One project stood out: 90 days of Instagram.

I hadn’t really shared my work before, and I thought this could be a good time to start, to beat the algorithm, to grow my account, to make something of it.

I told myself I’d post every day, no matter what.

But little did I know how boring, hard, and uninteresting it would become. What started as motivation quickly turned into a chore.

The first days felt good, even if there was no growth. I told myself it was alright, just keep going, momentum will come. Each night I’d look for a new or old photo to post the next day.

Two weeks in, things started to feel off. Not only because there was no growth, but because there was no direction. No real goal apart from “beat the algorithm”. That phrase became a loop in my head, and I kept going just for the sake of it.

By the end of the first month, I was done.

It wasn’t fun anymore, and definitely not creative. In the past, I had met people who got paid a thousand dollars a month just for posting a couple of tweets a day. Others had opened second accounts because they’d reached the limit on their first ones. Some even made commissions through their fan bases on Instagram.

What could I have been doing wrong?

I still don’t know. But the truth is, I wasn’t enjoying it. Each post added pressure instead of joy. By month two, I just wanted to stop.

Still, I told myself to finish the 90 days. Don’t quit now.

Back then, Jade was my curator, she’d check my posts for grammar mistakes. I think she was tired of it too. I could feel it.

Month three came. I found an image with a big “90” on it, wrote what I thought was a strong caption, and closed the project. There wasn’t a breaking point or a big realisation. Just the quiet relief of stopping.

Life moved on. I stepped away from social media for a while, and slowly started to feel better.

And that brings me here, to this journal.

It’s been about six months since I started writing again. Not for growth, not for likes, but simply for the joy of doing it. Whether what I write is good or bad doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s honest, and that it comes from something I’ve lived or cared about, my work, my hobbies, my life.

The pleasure of doing something for the sake of doing it.

And remembering the things that brought me here.

Cheers.