When Instagram feels like an empty well
Why I keep going back to places that can’t meet me.
Wildheart, do you remember that iconic scene in Sex and the City?
“You cannot do this to me again. You cannot jerk me around.”
“It’s six years of never being different.”
“Don’t call me. Ever again. Forget you know my number. In fact, forget you know my name.”- Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City
Carrie finally loses it after six years of patiently waiting. She’s been chill…sort of. Well, she tried not to be high-maintenance, which is hard with somebody who is as withholding and inconsistent as Mr Big. In fact, I’d say she was so emotionally generous, that she’s practically begging to be breadcrumbed.
If love feels like waiting to be chosen, it’s not love. It’s self-abandonment.
She’s given so much of herself to Big that when she finally finds her voice, she says what so many sensitive and anxious souls have carried for years.
That’s not just drama. That’s self respect kicking in.
Has she finally learnt the lesson? Maybe, but in this moment, here’s a woman who recognises the empty well for what it is: a place she’s returned to over and over, hoping it might be different…only to end up parched and disappointed.
Then it hit me:
That’s what Instagram has felt like for my inner child.
Not all the time, but often enough, and I’m not ashamed to say that whenever I’ve reached the end of my rope, I’ve watched this Carrie video….maybe a few hundred of times because it validates and soothes my frustrations. The raw resentment and hurt in her voice speaks to my soul. The fury. The betrayal. The disbelief.
It’s all there. It’s almost like Carrie Bradshaw is giving me permission to feel p1sssed off enough to know my worth and set boundaries.
Worth lives inside, you just have to see it
Carrie will really learn the lesson when she stops chasing approval (from people who can’t give it to her) and starts owning her worth. That’s not something to earn, but something she already is. She starts by looking in the mirror and saying, I’m enough, even when it feels impossible.
💔 The Empty Well
For longer than six years, I’ve been noticing that whenever I post something real on Instagram and get tumbleweed, I get mad. Now, that’s actually progress! 😉 I used to feel awful, like I want to shrink or hide away. So instead I get mad. Although, sadly it’s at myself! After after everything I’ve healed and everything I know, I still hold out hope and think:
Maybe this one will land. Maybe someone will reply. Maybe this time I’ll feel… a moment of connection.
After all, I’m posting something honest and vulnerable from my heart. Surely others can meet me in this space? That right there is the voice of my sweet, innocent and very naïve inner child.
My grown up, smart and very intuitive adult self knows that other people can only meet me as deeply as they have met themselves. She is also acutely aware that followers on The Gram are not responsible for her feelings. That would be giving her power away. She knows it’s not on her to try harder to make them listen or understand.
She’s growing wiser and more discerning
Instagram is teaching her to get comfortable with being misunderstood. She is learning to validate herself. She is learning that speaking her truth often means standing alone, and she can hold herself in that space.
Anger signals for protection
The anger, is showing up because I keep putting myself through the same harmful and painful cycle. This is called repetition compulsion. I hold onto that flicker of hope in my chest, only to feel that familiar crush when I’m met with tumbleweed again.
“I'm an emotional cutter. I deserve what I got. Running all over New York believing that I'm finally getting my happy ending. "
- Carrie Bradshaw
Thank goodness for the supportive likes from my gorgeous friends. I know without doubt these people, they are my people, but my nervous system is fixated on the ones who don’t. The quiet ache whispers:
“You shared your heart, and nobody was there.”
Toxic swamplands that kill soulful connection
Now listen, I know that social media is not built for depth. Not the emotional depth that makes my Wildheart ping. I know that Instagram is a superficial swampland where people go to scroll away their anxiety and distract themselves from uncomfortable truths. I know that toxic algorithm is set up to create comparison, envy and is a bottomless pit of taking.
Oh wait! That’s familiar. It mirrors an old relational pattern:
Instagram feels like the empty well my inner child keeps returning to for love that isn’t coming. Waiting to be chosen. Hoping. Longing. Trying. Being good. Then feeling like she’s failing and blaming herself. It’s a young part of me that was repeatedly emotionally abandoned.
It’s not Instagram but my inner child’s unmet needs.
If you’re an HSP (highly sensitive person) or someone with anxious attachment, you know this ache. It’s not about algorithms, it’s about what Instagram mimics for us:
Inconsistency
The silent treatment
Stonewalling
Punishment
Isolation
Unavailability
Ghosting
The high of maybe, followed by the crash of nothing
… because that’s what love looked like as a child 😢
So I wrote a letter. Not to Instagram. To her—the part of me who still keeps going back. Maybe I wrote this for you too.
✍️ A Letter to My Inner Child About Instagram
Hey Sweetheart,
I see how much you’re trying. You’ve been hard at work creating all those heart-felt posts with beautiful artwork. They’re amazing and your message is so important in this crazy world.
I see you! Every time you share your sensitive heart on Instagram, you’re hoping someone will meet you there. You’re not looking for attention. You’re looking for warmth and presence. You’re trying to find your people online. I know you want to help them, because that’s your way.
And when no one replies, or they just double-tap and vanish, you feel it in your whole body. It feels like rejection. Like invisibility. Like "Why am I never enough?”
But here’s the truth, my sweet, dear girl…
❌ It’s not because you did something wrong.
❌ It’s not because you’re too much or not enough.
❌ It’s not because people don’t care.
It’s nothing to do with you. It’s because:
✨ Some people are overwhelmed.
✨ Some are distracted, numb, avoidant.
✨ Some don’t know how to meet the kind of depth you bring.
✨ And some are just quietly watching, absorbing, without the skills to connect.
We don’t know their stories, but I do know yours, and I know what you need isn’t more content, it’s more care.
🫶 You need consistency and softness to feel safe.
🫶 You need fun, laughter and lots of rest.
🫶 You need people who respond with emotional resonance and authenticity.
So here’s what I’m going to do, my sweet angel…
We’re going to step away from that space for a while, and not because we’ve failed, but because I’ve heard you. I’m listening now. I see the toll it takes. I feel the ache. And I choose you.
Let’s stop constantly creating in spaces where your precious efforts are wasted. Let’s stay here on Substack where we’ve made lovely new friends. Let’s take some time out to do something together that feels kind. That’s just for you. Why don’t we go outside for a walk with little Moe? Or make a nice cup of tea. I think I’ve got some biscuits in the cupboard. If you’re up for it we could journal and pull some cards. You choose, but let’s do what brings you home to your body. Then, quite possibly, I think you might need a good cry.
This one really hurts, doesn’t it? It’s also liberating to know that:
🤗 You don’t have to perform anymore.
🤗 You don’t have to earn love.
🤗 You are already enough.
You are just the right amount of you-ness and I love you…always. Just as you are. Whether you’re creating or not. You are my world and there’s nothing you could do to make me not want to be here.
Love,
Grown-Up Lisa x 🤍
🥖 When breadcrumbs feel like home
Breadcrumbs are the little crumbs of attention, affection, or validation you get in place of real, consistent love. They’re:
The “like” that keeps you hanging on
The DM that says “hello” but never goes deeper
The charming compliments that lack depth and sincerity
The vague mention of plans with no follow up
The inconsistent messages that keep your hope on life support
The one nice thing someone says that overrides all the ways they disappear
Breadcrumbs keep you hoping and they activate your nervous system just enough to stay tethered. If love ever looked like that for you, then breadcrumbs don’t just feel familiar, they feel like home. But there are not.
Breadcrumbs are emotional junk food and your soul deserves more!
💭 Reflection
If you’re someone who performs for love, and who pours your heart into places that don’t know how to hold you, you’re not broken. You’re wired that way because once, a long time ago, that’s how you survived.
But you get to gently and lovingly rewire now. Now is the time to show your nervous system all the little ways that it’s safe for you to be loved just the way you are. You don’t have to perform or over function. You don’t have to shrink or edit yourself.
✍🏻 If you feel called, write your own letter to your inner child.
⬇️ Download this inner child journal here to get you started.
❤️🩹 If you need a little extra help, book an Inner Child Healing Session with me.
For my loyal Wildheart members, I’ve also included some journal prompts to help with that. Keep scrolling and you’ll find them underneath this post.
With love,
PS. If this one spoke to your heart, do me a favour and click that heart button up top or down below. It’s like sending a little nod to the universe that this is your truth. Plus it helps others who think they’re “needy” realise it’s not their fault, and that is the kind of healing we all need.
