This past year, I fluctuated between two extremes with my phone: either I was mindlessly scrolling too late at night or I was obsessively attentive to a few accounts I thought were really helping me — both at the cost of actual time with my family. My feeds infiltrated my thoughts to a point where I wasn’t sure where social media ended and my real thoughts began. I had convinced myself that I was using Instagram intentionally because of how carefully I curated who I followed. My feed was full of beauty and joy, homeschooling, theology, inspirational expats, real life friends and funnies, and I was super interested in it.

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