If you take a scroll through my instagram feed from this past year, you will see a pretty detailed archive of where I was, who I was with, what trips I went on, what art I created.

On my instagram, my life looks awesome. Perfectly curated.

Duh. It's supposed to look that way. But it's never true, is it?

This really was my year of curating photo dumps for instagram. Which sounds silly and unimportant when I write it out, but it’s true. When many aspects of my life felt out of my control, I latched onto my online image and controlling how I was perceived. Posting has always been a fun, creative outlet for me, but it got unhealthy this year. By the end of summer, posting wasn’t fun anymore.

It was like a game and I wasn’t sure why I was still playing. Like a chore, even. But I kept doing it anyways. I don't really know why.

By Christmas, I had posted 54 times in 2025. That’s insane.

About 3 weeks ago, I was on winter break, and truly had time to do absolutely nothing for the first time in months. And what did I choose to do? Scroll.

And then scroll some more.

Which would have been harmless if it weren’t for me taking it one step too far and going down the rabbit hole of checking in on someone I should absolutely not be checking in on. But sue me, I had a lapse in self control and let curiosity get the better of me. I hadn't done it in almost half a year.

Sidenote: there’s never a best case scenario when you do this. You always end up feeling terrible. Just don’t even go there. You'll probably see that they're copying your vsco pictures, stealing your cool hangout spots, or even using YOUR photos in THEIR posts.

Per usual, I saw some things I did not want to see, and for the umpteenth time this year, I closed out my apps feeling sick and guilty and all the other feelings I had tried to repress in between these lapse-in-judgement-check-ins.

Social media has overcomplicated and really interfered with how I’ve tried to heal from this situation. If it weren't for social media, I could have ripped off the bandaid and never thought twice about it (okay well maybe I would've thought three or four or ten times about it, but still). Social media gives this illusion of connection to people you otherwise wouldn't have access to. Because of that, these feelings of anger, guilt, and jealousy have overstayed their welcome and I am just so fed up with the cycle.

This isn’t even real life and it’s making me sick.

I’d much prefer to live in the real world.

So I deleted my social media apps off of my phone on December 30th. I quit cold turkey. Maybe it's this weird situation that I based my decision off of, or my gradual realization that I don't even really like posting my life on instagram anymore. Maybe this feeling of being watched and imitated IS why I don't want to share anymore. I'm not really sure, and I don't really care. I bought a 1000 piece puzzle and bid farewell to TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, X, and Facebook. Maybe my hiatus is forever or maybe it's not. All I know is I haven't been using social media in a way that serves me for a very long time. It's about time I revoke my scrolling rights.

All this to say, unfortunately that means no epic 2025 allileft photo dump to end off the year. Tragic. Ugh, I know, we're all disappointed and the world will never be the same.

I've been reflecting on my past year a lot in the past couple weeks, and I still want to look back on the year from a more honest perspective, not my glamorized instagram lens.

This year was wonderful, exciting, deeply introspective, disappointing, full of love, full of tears, and full of surprises (both welcome and unwelcome).

I spent the night in New York City for the first time.

I started therapy, which I’ve needed since middle school.

I dedicated more time to yoga. Journaling. Art.

I worked to unlearn the goals and expectations that were placed on me, and not things I really want.

I spent so much time with my family. And lots of time with my friends.

I let my hair grow longer than it’s ever been.

I shot 12 rolls of film.

I went on 4 solo flights. 1 solo trip. Had dinner with 6 strangers.

I started a podcast. Posted a few episodes. Life distracted me, but I’ll pick it up again at some point.

I started my masters program.

I had a relationship. Received flowers for the first time. Then got dumped over text for the first time a few months after.

I burned my old journal. Started a new one. Wrote a lot more often.

I figured out how I like to dress. Got rid of a lot of old clothes.

I replayed old conversations over and over again. Thought about what I wish I said better. Or at all.

I cried silently on my flight to Utah for 4 hours.

I created my version of a salt n vinegar martini.

I went to NYC 5 times. I went to DC 7 times.

I saw 3 Broadway shows. Shoutout Nick Jonas and Leslie Odom Jr.

I got my first tattoo in Brooklyn by Mary Black!

I sang on stage at the Pearl concert.

I deleted pictures. I regretted it later.

I didn’t fight for things that weren't worth fighting for.

I got my foot sprayed with Windex in order to get a custom fit toe ring at the beach. Yes. This happened.

I got proof of what I always knew. It was validating until I realized it didn't change anything.

I got to be a +1 at a really beautiful wedding in Charleston.

I put my feet up on the Washington Monument.

I had a TikTok get 2 million views? Barstool Sports followed me? Wild.

I cried a lot. In yoga. Before yoga. After yoga. In therapy. In my room. On a Sunday morning. On my birthday. On a Boeing 737. All bets were off and the tears were shed.

I feel weird calling 2025 a “good year”. Because in ways it was, but in lots of ways it wasn’t.

I achieved a lot. I held on too tightly to things I should've let go of. Lost things I should've held onto tighter. I opened up more. I developed bad habits. I kept my word. I held my tongue. I tried new things. I showed up.

2025 was a year that needed to happen. And I am glad it happened. But I am very glad it’s over.

In lieu of my photo dump, here are some pics I never shared from my year.

bye bye 2025