do i click delete?

my finger has been hovering over the delete button all morning.
the warmth of my pulse is coming just close enough to activate the sensitivity of the touchscreen.
but, i know that will only be the first step. the second prompt will ask me: are you sure that you want to delete? and that prompt will have me second guessing and allowing doubt to flood in. and i know myself well enough that i likely won’t follow through.

the list of people that i’ve seen deleting instagram from their devices seems to be growing daily. i can see the exodus beginning as the complaints of lack of engagement is fading, dwindling to nothing. and the burn out is real.
and if i follow through, if i’m actually brave enough, do i “delete my account"?
or do i put a permanent “out of office” notification on my profile that follows the line that says: “steve veasey, illustrator. writer. coffee addict”?
i don’t want to become a ghost. i don’t want to stop getting illustration projects.
maybe i leave my page active as a directive as to where to find me and highlight my email address and website.
do i create one final post to explain my actions? or do i simply fade into the background? maybe i don’t owe anyone an explanation (even though i’m kind of doing that right now. and you’re going to see this theme throughout this writing. i recognize the potential hypocrisy of acknowledging that i might delete and step away from everything and am processing it on substack- which is yet another platform. i’m essentially doing the thing that i’m questioning to cease doing. but, please don’t forget that i am a broken human like the rest of us. and maybe sharing this will help someone else. or maybe it’ll help me process. maybe on the other side of this writing and reflecting, i’ll realize that hitting that delete button is a bad idea).

this thought process began at the beginning of may. realizing how burnt out i was getting in life and how overwhelmed i felt, i took an intentional break from instagram because it felt like it was constantly competing for my attention. i was off of the app for 2 weeks- aside from responding to a few messages.
as much as i proclaim that i’m on instagram to be a support for others, that’s only a half-truth. to be brutally honest, a big part of me is in it for the dopamine hit.
the likes, comments, and follows- things that i’ve literally gone on podcasts to say don’t matter, actually do. they really matter to me.
they matter so much that i’ve realized that i seldom create for myself anymore. when i began my instagram page 3 years ago and began the steve.can.draw journey, i was creating art because i felt inspired and was leaning into who i neglected for years. and these illustrations are still some of my favorite pieces. these are the art prints that actually sell in my shop because i was creating them for me i think that there is a different level of heart in them. but, for the better part of the past year and a half, a good majority of what i’ve created has been for what i think that others want to see. i’ve taken advantage of holidays, seasons and special events to create a point of connection. i’ve chosen to illustrate something to do with the timing of the winter solstice rather than a summer sunset because it’s what i thought the people wanted.
but, as i stand here and seemingly beat myself up over the truth, i do know one thing for certain- all of this came from a good place. and i look back on my instagram journey, and i would never wish it away. the connections that i’ve made, the people that i’ve helped- especially myself- was worth it.

upon stepping back onto instagram after the break, one of the safeguards that i put in place was to add all of the people who i consider to be friends and my community into a “favorites” group. and when i spent time on the app, i tried to only filter by favorites so that there wasn’t any visual noise and i was seeing the creativity and life that was shared by the people who i wanted to see. the two weeks that were spent off of the app felt freeing. almost like a chain was broken. but, another unexpected thing happened: i was hit with creative block, and one that has lasted ever since.
because i’ve been in the game of “creating for others” for so long that when i took a step away from the opportunity, it showed me the real truth- the kind of truth that kicks you in the gut and bruises you. the the kind of truth that you pretend doesn’t exist and you gaslight yourself to say that it wasn’t real.
(this is where i expect someone to have the thought that i’m repeating the same behavior by sharing this on substack… well, old habits die hard.)

and then i wonder: what about this platform?
will this become the new instagram? for me? for all of us?
one of my hesitancies is that the exodus from instagram onto substack feels like a subtle trend, despite it being a true awakening. but the word “trend” scares me.
reflecting on my time on instagram, it’s currently easy to become cynical.
but, just as there are seasons in a year, maybe that platform was for a season in my life. it was a season in which to make friendships and connections in a time where i didn’t have any beyond the very special ones in my household. it was a season to help me to believe in myself and show me that i am worthy.
and maybe it will be there for seasons to come. and this processing is helping me to discern that.

if i’ve learned anything over the past three years, it’s that your people, your tribe- they will check in on you. when i took the two week break, these are the people that were so concerned for me that i stepped away without notice that some were scared for my physical health!- assuming that i had an onslaught of seizures or had an emotional breakdown. (these responses in themselves were a very sobering reality as it showed me that i was such an active force on instagram that to step away for a couple of days sent some people into a mental spiral. that really said a lot to me.)
the thing about these people- your tribe- is that they will find a way.
they will email you. send a text. they will find a way to get to you.

the question that i’m asking today is:
is it worth it? is it worth the cost?
i might lose friendships. i might feel alone. i might lose potential illustration projects with clients. i might lose sight of myself and the art that i am capable of creating- and the incredible feeling that comes along with sharing my work with others.
everything in life comes with a risk. and a cost.
maybe i’ll lose it all.
or maybe i’ll gain everything.

and the most freeing part of it all is that no one even needs to read this post.
(there is only one person who i hope that does- and he knows who he is. and most of this won’t be new information.)

if you’re reading this, i appreciate you and for making it this far into these thoughts that come from the dark corners of my mind. the parts that i thought i could hide behind floral wallpaper and decorative objects.

i thought that if i could make it this deep into the word count, i would have it all figured out.
but, i feel just as undecided as i did when i wrote the opening line of this post.
maybe i’ll delete it all.
or maybe i’ll create and post on instagram tomorrow.
but, i do know one thing for certain:
i don’t need to decide anything today. or tomorrow.
when i know, i’ll know. and there is peace in the uncertainty between now and then.