#52 Show Me the Dogs
- Jun 7
- 3 min read
Lately, I have noticed an increasing number of people around me complaining about social media. More specifically, they are complaining about Instagram.
People tell me it makes them feel bad, and some have recently decided to take a complete break from it altogether.
And it made me curious.
Not because I don't believe them. Quite the opposite. I can see it happening.
What made me curious is that my experience is so different.
I genuinely love Instagram.
Like most people, yes, I do scroll too. But most of the time, I leave the app in a better mood than when I opened it. There are even days when I laugh so hard that tears run down my face. Oh, I absolutely treasure these belly laughs!
So why does Instagram make some people feel miserable while it mostly makes me laugh?
After thinking about it for a while, I realized that I have a very particular relationship with Instagram.
I treat it like a four-year-old negotiating bedtime.
Every single day—and I really mean every single day—I have the same conversation with the Instagram algorithm:
"Please show me funny dog videos."
"No, I do not want to see news reports about war."
"No, I am not interested in financial advice."
"No, I do not need another influencer telling me about a secret destination that I absolutely must visit."
"No, I do not need a miracle supplement, a youth serum, or a seven-step morning routine."
And the next day, we have the same conversation again.
Just like a four-year-old who somehow forgets that bedtime exists, Instagram returns every day with fresh ideas and fresh negotiations.
"But what about this shocking news story?"
"No, thank you."
"What about this political outrage?"
"No, thanks."
"This health expert says everything you've been eating is wrong."
"Oh, please."
The negotiations never stop.
And maybe that's because the algorithm and a four-year-old actually have something in common.
Neither of them is evil.
Neither of them is trying to ruin your day.
They simply want your attention.
A four-year-old wants five more minutes before bed.
An algorithm wants five more minutes of engagement.
The goal is different, but the strategy is surprisingly similar. Both are incredibly creative, and both know exactly which buttons to push. And both become remarkably persistent when they discover what gets a reaction.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that opening a social media app requires the same skill as putting a child to bed.
You have to be the responsible adult in the room.
You have to know why you are there.
You have to decide what deserves your attention and what doesn't.
Because if you don't make that decision, someone else will gladly make it for you.
There is a psychological concept called negativity bias.
In simple terms, humans tend to pay more attention to negative information than positive information.
From an evolutionary perspective, that makes sense. Missing a threat was far more costly than missing a pleasant sunset.
The problem is that social media knows this too. Not consciously, perhaps. I don't believe there is some evil mastermind sitting behind the algorithm trying to manipulate us. But the algorithm learns very quickly what captures our attention.
And attention is the currency of the internet.
The result is that every time we open our phones, we are presented with countless invitations to worry.
About the economy.
About our health.
About politics.
About the future.
About whether we are doing enough, earning enough, travelling enough, eating the right things, buying the right things, or becoming the right things.
The invitations never stop. Neither do the negotiations.
Maybe that is the real challenge of social media.
Not avoiding it altogether, but remembering why we opened it in the first place.
Every day, Instagram tries to convince me that the world is collapsing, that my health is at risk, that I am missing out, falling behind, or buying the wrong things.
And every day I tell it the same thing:
