Flappable.

I am one of those people who is easily flappable. Well, in certain situations. Mostly in situations in which other people wouldn't even bat an eyelid. I become easily overwhelmed. Much less often nowadays, but I can still get wound up.

Bizarrely in moments of extreme stress, or when I am faced with potential danger or difficulty, I am incredibly calm. I get myself out of a situation quickly, I don't panic, I sometimes don't even get upset about it afterwards. It was what it was and all that.

Sometimes, however, I flap at what afterwards appears to have been nothing at all. Like forgetting a book I wanted to exchange at Waterstone's and having a short, frustrated cry about it in the car. Wanting to ring my mum up and complain that everything is going wrong today, even though the world outside is in crisp, clear sunshine and I have so many things to be grateful for everyday.

I've always been like that. Always been easily overwhelmed by little things. I know at the time that I am completely indulging in whinging or crying or huffing. Sometimes that feels good, especially when it releases excess emotion I have when I'm tried or hormonal. And that's fine, the world can often be just a bit too much. Even tiny, tiny things that make no overall difference to the grand scheme of things.

But it is so much more important, if you are going to indulge in a little self-pity, to come out the other side and notice what an absolutely stonking day it is. Because the little things are really nothing, and everything else is so bloody good, it would be a shame to waste it all in a flap.

Unsure.

I find myself so unsure nowadays. Once upon a time I would have found such uncertainty frightening. At the moment I am unsure about what I think, about what I want, about what I like and don't like. I grew up, as most teenagers do, with a burning conviction for anything that I believed or did. Everything was weighted with such importance, I was die-hard about it all.

I miss those days sometimes. I miss the complete abandon I could feel from being so passionately involved in something. I miss the escapism of loving a book or a film or a Youtube community so much it was all I could think about, all I wanted to be.

And then comes the confusing, earth-shattering self-doubt of being 17, 18, 19. The world is suddenly enormous and you are really tiny. Everything you believed or loved is not absolute or everlasting. Every emotion swallows you whole, making love and friendship and desire a vast landscape covered in landmines. Your conviction is still there, but uncertainty has crept in and it feels catastrophic.

Uncertainty used to mean not knowing who I was. It used to mean apathy or being apolitical or, God forbid, politically centrist. It used to mean confusion, which was horrible, and an inability to make decisions. The last two, if I'm honest, sometimes still stand.

But now I feel unsure and it is almost freeing. It is making me question and consider everything in greater detail. It is making me more compassionate, more empathetic. I am not apolitical, but I am evaluating what my beliefs mean. The idea of political centrism is no longer a great evil depicting someone who doesn't care. I am just thinking a lot more, in a sense, and taking time out from deciding on an absolute, definite opinion on everything. My uncertainty is allowing me the time to think.

Uncertainty as a pleasurable or self-improving time in one's life is, I realise, a great privilege. Recognising that makes me appreciate it all the more. I never thought I would be so content to be so unsure.

Deleting Instagram

I deleted my Instagram app from my phone for a few weeks. I didn't miss it much, and I only re-downloaded it because I kept missing photos of friends and family that I wanted to see. I deleted it because I found it tiring. All the best and beautiful bits of people's lives and what was I doing? Scrolling through the app late into the night like I didn't have the willpower to turn it off.

There is nothing new in this. Everyone has something similar to say about social media. But I didn't actually feel so negative about it until recently. Every time I opened Instagram I found myself wondering why I didn't look better, why I wasn't going to certain places, why I didn't have the money to eat at beautiful restaurants all the time, why my life wasn't absolutely aesthetically perfect. I kept wondering what was missing from my life, and then having to remind myself that my life is bloody brilliant and I am lucky to have everything in it.

I didn't like the feeling of inadequacy and jealousy and envy I kept getting when I went on the app. They weren't emotions which made me want to strive for more or better, to work harder or appreciate what I have. They made me feel bitter. I found myself wanting to find pictures which made my life look as constantly exciting as the people I followed. I wanted people to think my life was cool and beautiful and something to envy.

Eventually I got bored of this and decided to delete the app until I got a grip. I wasn't going to sit there scrolling through something which made me unhappy hoping my life would somehow turn into an Instagram filter and I would never be bored or disgruntled ever again. And now, having done this, I have the app again and I forget it's there. I only look to see what friends are getting up to. I get bored of aimlessly scrolling. I haven't posted in a while and I don't really care.

The thing is this isn't really about the evils of Instagram, or me preaching against those who use it. I enjoy it sometimes. I like getting creative with how I take photos. I like seeing what my friends are doing. I like how it encourages me to catch up with people I haven't seen in a while. The problem with social media is rarely about the apps themselves but with the people who use them. Your ugliest side can come out, people are competitive, insecure, scared. And when I see that side of me rising, I really have better things to be getting on with. It is my responsibility to make that decision, and I'm really glad I did.