I was trying to use Instagram to impress others.
There, I said it. Gulp. That feels better...I think.
While I believe I started my “@EverySingleStreetTulsa” Instagram account simply as a public catalog of media captured as I journeyed to run every single street in Tulsa, Oklahoma, it became a quest of approval—to be impressive for doing something grand and slightly wacky.
Not too long after launching, the profile gained some traction. It garnered a few hundred subscribers and regular engagement. And I’ll admit, the feedback felt good…until it didn’t.
The more I would post, the plateau in engagement grew annoying. I found myself regularly checking the stats to see how many people were impressed by day’s, week’s, or month’s city map coverage. Though I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care what others thought of my zany project, they were, in a way, telling me that they didn’t care either.
Ouch. Well, ok.
However, my confidence in the project was buoyed by one factor: I was still impressing the only person worth impressing—me.
No one was getting more of a kick out of my progress than me, that’s for sure. Each new completed street was an internal celebration. Each completed neighborhood was a pat on my own back—no assistance needed. If it hadn’t been seen as weird or even self-centered, I likely would have commented on my own posts with input such as “Nice work!” and “You’re really doing it, kid!” I know this because my journal entries following run logs would contain such messages to myself.
So, understanding that nobody would be more impressed by my endeavors than me, I decided to quit torturing myself by seeking outside approval—I deleted the profile and kept running. Each street a secretive victory for me to enjoy.
As Rick Rubin would say in an interview about making music for others,
“The audience comes last. I’m not making it for them. I’m making it for me.”
What have I discovered since hitting delete?
There are several profoundly liberating results that come about from the shift from trying to impress others to only attempting to impress—and be impressed by—one’s self.
1. You’re reintroduced to your truer self.
Most of us think we know what impresses us. In reality, many of these seemingly impressive factors are what we’ve been told are impressive.
However, the decision to decide (not a typo) what we consider impressive may come as a huge relief. You can stop pretending to like things you don’t like. You’re free to be an unabashed enthusiast (which I believe is the technical definition of a nerd—but so what?).
Like George Constanza in the Seinfeld episode “The Busboy,” you can choose not to like pesto—no matter how many people say they like it. (“Everybody likes pesto. You walk into a restaurant, that’s all you hear—pesto, pesto, pesto…where was pesto ten years ago?”)
One example of this for me with the cars people drive.
While many are impressed by someone driving a fancy new car, I am much more impressed by the person who keeps their “classic” (a nicer term for a “beater car”) going long after society assumes they would have given up on it by now. Net worth? Nah, let me see that odometer. Now, that’s impressive.
Because I’ve realized that this is what truly impresses me, I can be more content with my own “classic” car and feel less self-conscious about having the oldest car in the lot at work. If anything, it may be a point of pride—my own pride, sure, but pride nonetheless.
And when what you consider impressive begins to align with your life, you can begin to impress yourself in deeply satisfying ways—and to make matters better, you don’t even care if anyone knows about it.
2. You realize who are real friends and who are “deal friends.”
While I wish I could take credit, this terminology comes from happiness researcher, Dr. Arthur Brooks. And I almost don’t need to describe what it means.
“Deal friends” can seem immensely impressive, but really only due to what you can potentially gain from being their “friend.” This includes social clout, a new professional connection, or something else of documentable value—almost more of a conduit to what you ultimately want (or what they want from you) than actual relationships. These folks may find themselves with many “deal friends” more akin to fans than genuine companions.
On the flip side, real friends—when it comes to their material value for you—are virtually useless, but that's fine. They likely can’t help you land that glitzy new job or make you more popular with anyone. However, they are impressive to you regardless. Maybe you’re just impressed by their character. Maybe they provide support. Maybe they’re actually an absolute trainwreck of a person, but you just like them and you don’t have to explain why.
3. Impressing yourself is much more within your own control—and feels better.
Not to get too Stoic or Zen, but you have no control over who you impress or how much you impress them. Try as you might, there’s no guarantee that even your maximum effort will impress anyone. And even if you do, it may not (and likely will not) grant the type of life-affirming satisfaction you think it will.
Impressing yourself, however, tends to not only be a more realistic goal but will likely be even more satisfying once achieved.
Part of the reason this is so is because most folks are only impressed by end results and maybe not the tiny baby step wins along the way. However, when you determine the finish line, you’re impressed by every step you take in that direction.
In the end, no matter how large your fanbase, the pile of competitors in your wake, or the wins you’ve amassed, no one is really worth impressing if you’re not first aiming to impress yourself—and according to what you truly consider impressive.
When you let go of trying to be impressive to others, you may just impress yourself.
The new home of Every Single Street Tulsa, though I don’t care if you read it or not:
