The Social Media Struggle: Navigating Life, Age, and the Pressure to Keep Up
I recently celebrated another birthday, and it feels like each passing year brings with it a new layer of reflection. It’s funny; as I get older, I find myself grappling with certain things more deeply than I did when I was younger. One of those things is social media. What was once a fun and exciting space to share ideas and connect with others has, over time, morphed into something that feels overwhelming, at times even alienating.
Unlike many people, I’ve never been one to follow trends or post constantly. Even back when Instagram was in its early days, I struggled with the pressure to churn out content just to stay relevant. Every time I tried to keep up with the fast-paced nature of it all, I felt the quality of my work suffered. Instead of capturing moments that spoke to me or producing photos I was proud of, I found myself focusing more on numbers and likes. I was chasing the algorithm, not the art, and that never sat well with me.
These days, my desire to stay away from trends has only grown stronger. My focus is on producing more meaningful and quality work, even if it doesn’t perform well in the eyes of social media metrics. But it’s not easy. I feel like I’m constantly “failing forward.” I’ll spend hours getting the perfect shot, editing it to capture the exact mood I’m going for, and then I post it… only for it to be met with silence. Meanwhile, someone else will post something trendy and get thousands of likes in a matter of minutes. It’s disheartening.
Social media has such a strong grip on our perception of value that it can feel like if you don’t have a massive following, your work doesn’t matter. I’ve seen it in the photography community too. If you’re not shooting in the hottest style or posting daily, it feels like your voice is drowned out. And I get it—social media thrives on constant content. But for someone like me, who would rather spend weeks perfecting a single image than flooding my feed with mediocrity, it’s tough. You end up questioning if anyone even notices the effort you’re putting in.
I think part of the problem is that social media has shifted how we view connection and relevance. It used to be that a beautiful photo spoke for itself. Now, if you don’t have the right hashtags, the right timing, or the right amount of followers, that same image can easily go unnoticed. The quality of the work doesn’t seem to matter as much as the quantity you produce or the attention you can grab. And that makes it hard for someone like me, who doesn’t play the numbers game, to feel seen.
On top of all this, I’ve never been great at socializing online. I’m much more comfortable having in-person conversations, where I can connect with someone face-to-face. Photography, for me, has always been a way of communicating without words—a way of telling a story or capturing a feeling that’s hard to express in text. But on social media, everything feels reduced to captions, likes, and comments. It’s all so… transactional.
I know there are plenty of photographers and content creators who thrive in that environment, who enjoy interacting with their followers online and have mastered the art of digital conversation. But that’s just never been my strong suit. I feel awkward trying to connect with people through screens. I much prefer the spontaneity and depth of real-life conversation—the kind you can’t capture in a comment section or a DM.
So, as I reflect on another birthday and what it means to be growing older in a digital age, I’m reminding myself that it’s okay to step back from the noise. It’s okay to focus on creating photos that feel true to me, even if they don’t get thousands of likes. It’s okay to prioritize quality over quantity. And it’s okay to struggle with social media, because it doesn’t define my worth, nor should it dictate how I share my work.
If I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s that the pressure to keep up with social media is real, but it doesn’t have to consume me. I may never have the kind of following that garners instant attention, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to create, to capture moments that matter, and to stay true to my vision as a photographer. And for now, that’s more than enough.