Social Media: An Experiment

As a member of Gen Z, I’ve been embroiled in the world of social media for almost half of my life. I was there for the is it “blue and black” or is it “white and gold” dress debacle of 2015. I was there for the beginnings of YouTube and Instagram—awkwardly posting pictures covered in stickers and captioned with an overwhelming number of unrelated emojis. I was an active viewer and producer of terrible yet ever-so-nostalgic Vines—and I am now a viewer and producer of the very same terrible TikToks (formerly known as Musical.ly). 

My point is I’ve seen and been a part of, the rise and fall of many social media platforms. I haven’t engaged in all of them actively but I’ve certainly tried.

Over the years, I’ve realized a few things: I’m terrible at Twitter; I hate Snapchat; YouTube is fun to consume but too consuming to produce; Facebook is a great medium to reconnect with older relatives and re-sharing minion memes but not for much else; I love TikTok but it’s a time vacuum that I occasionally have to disengage from for my sanity; and Instagram is my favorite but also the most taxing on my mental state due to an overwhelming and unfightable urge to participate in social comparisons.

Even with all of my social media experience, or hours wasted according to my mom, I’ve never been a “successful” user of any of these platforms. Or, at least, to my standard. Let’s go on a tangent for a moment first.

Take my blog, for example, though it is not a social media platform itself it is through social media that it is disseminated. All in all, I love being able to write for myself—regardless of how “successful” it is—but there is an egotistical or narcissistic aspect of my brain that wants people to see more of my work.

I want to be seen. I want to be heard. And, part of me wants to be loved for the things that I love to write. And even though I’ve received assurances from people that my writing is seen, I still continue to watch over my analytics like a hawk. Taking in every single page view as a success and then comparing to past successes to deem others a failure. Sometimes, I even find comfort in thinking that I “write into the void,” that people don’t see me even though I concurrently want them to.

This obviously isn’t the super logical aspect of my brain but denying it wouldn’t make it exist any less. 

That begs the question, what do you consider success on these platforms? Coalescing my years of unsuccessful experience blogging and otherwise, I’ve decided that success on any one platform is your ability to be seen and your ability to foster genuine engagement. Your number of followers is not always synonymous with success, as I’ve come to find out. Sure, you can have a lot of people follow you but how many of those thousands of people actually consume your content in a genuine fashion?

That’s where we can look to a follow-to-like ratio. If you have well over 1,000 followers and are only seeing about the same 30 people like your post every time, you’ve got a problem.

You need a healthy balance of both followers (aka ability to be seen) and genuine engagement (likes, comments, re-shares, etc.). Now that we’ve defined what success is in my dictionary, let’s talk about why I felt the urge to talk about something so arbitrary and largely unnecessary in the way that I do.

I came to a realization not too long ago, that my lack of success among my own platforms was not due to a lack of knowledge but due to a lack of trying.

Up until this point, I had instilled a lot of doubt within myself. Unfortunately, my confidence/self-esteem has never been exceedingly high. I was breaking my first rule of success before I even tried. I didn’t want to be seen. So, instead of attempting to use my knowledge to further my own growth, I’d always felt more comfortable using it for other people.

Throughout college, I played a role (either graphic design or management) in a number of different accounts. Providing insight and assistance in whatever way I could, because if I couldn’t succeed I certainly wanted these endeavors too. The problem was is that people didn’t really believe me.

I mean, sure, they knew that I somewhat knew what I was talking about but after one too many incidents of back-handed pushback, it started to believe it. It wasn’t intentional—the occasional blow from a questioning ego—but actions speak louder than words.

Most in my position probably would have stood their ground. They would have made it known that “I am here and I know what I’m talking about!” They would have corrected this false claim or insinuation with might but, in my case, self-doubt got the better of me. I didn’t have that fight within me and eventually, I started to question whether or not they were right.

“Do I really know what I’m doing? Maybe they have a point. Maybe I don’t.” 

I certainly couldn’t prove it. It was impossible to provide the one thing that could have unequivocally backed me up. Proof.

So, I let go. When I began to question if I knew anything at all, I knew it was time for a change. But instead of taking a chance on some other endeavor that would again not be my own, I took a chance on myself. 

I decided it was time to stop pretending that I didn’t exist. I challenged myself to be seen.

I started betting on myself. I decided that if I really knew what was up, I needed to prove it to myself. I needed to prove that not only could I be seen but I could also be heard in a way that was meaningful to me.

I took every bit of advice I had been giving away to other people and I gave it to myself instead. I shaped my brand, I found my aesthetic, threw myself into a consistent rhythm, found my voice, and adjusted accordingly when I needed to. 

Online, I knew who I was, what I wanted, and what I was here for. 

I put every bit of my heart into this project of trying to grow a social media account (@theintriguingintrovert). At first, I’ll admit I was on a bit of a vengeful ego trip. I wanted to prove, out of spite, that I did know what I was doing. That my opinion was valuable.

Then I realized, I was still in some ways trying to gain appreciation or praise from people who weren’t even aware that they had withheld it. I was still betting on them, and not me. 

But now? Now, I know with certainty that my opinion is valid. I know that I know what I’m doing and I continue to reaffirm this fact every day. You know how I know?

When I started betting on myself and taking my own advice—putting in the time, the effort, and the heart—my growth was evident. 

In a month and a half, I went from 166 followers to over 1,000 followers in-counting. I’m even a brand rep now which is awesome (aka I get sent beautiful products from https://www.etsy.com/shop/ElisaReadsAgain and I get to brag about how awesome they are, here’s my code (Theintriguin10) if you want 10% off). 

Every day I wake up and remember that I am valid and I am valuable. I am seen and I am heard. Of course, I can admit when I don’t know what I’m doing (there’s no shame in not knowing) and I am always ready to talk things through with people. If anything, I’ve learned there’s absolutely no one way to do things but in those moments when I need to be sure of myself I just have to remember that I am, in fact, sure. 

Throughout this process, I’ve been able to grow and learn in so many ways. I now can boast achievements of becoming a member of a wonderful online community, accumulating a large number of suspicious DMs, and not-so-subtle judgment from my iPhone after it delivers my weekly screen reports. 

(In all seriousness, I am incredibly grateful to have found such a supportive community on the internet. They’re quite possibly the world’s best cheerleaders and just wonderful souls to get to know.)

While being in the process of active growth, I spent an average of 10 hours a day on social media. 10 hours. That’s a lot of time I could’ve spent writing this blog post or actually reading a book or maybe even cleaning my room. It was worth it but boy do my eyes need a break. Another thing I learned, solo social media management is not easy.

Now, this isn’t an invitation to ask me for social media advice because like I said, there’s no one right way and I still don’t have everything figured out, but this is an invitation to start betting on yourself. Bet on yourself and if you need proof, prove it. 

End rant.