As a young woman living in the 2010s, it seems to be a right of passage that my life is all consumed by social media. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook should be my purpose for living, right? If I don't post a selfie every week, how will people know that I am still beautiful? If I do not get over 100 likes on said selfie, I must be worth less than the girl who's picture below mine has 200 likes, correct?

If you had asked me two years ago if I agreed with the above statements, I would have said "no," but internally believed "yes." My collection of overly-edited, perfectly-angled, front-camera and mirror-reflected images of myself determined how others perceived me, thus ruling how I viewed myself.

The number of retweets and favorites that I had on a well-thought-out post was a reflection of my social status and popularity, which meant everything.

I saw these virtual transactions as solidified representations of the constructs that are most powerful in shaping my experience of the world: self-image, self-esteem and self-worth.

Also, the social-comparison that I employed in my instagram-browsing daily resulted in the complete downfall of my confidence. My feed was constantly filled with models who seemed to look the part, have it all, and be completely happy with their lives, which made me hate mine.

Truly, social media made me hate myself.

I began to hate the way I looked. I stopped enjoying my time in the physical presence of others, as I was too distracted by what was going on online. I distrusted my significant other on false pretenses, grounded in my jealousy of others on social media.

My usage of social media also began to ruin my relationships with others.

I unfortunately turned to Twitter to rant about a friend that I was upset about. If I got in a fight with my boyfriend, Twitter was also the first to know. If I was feeling depressed at night, I utilized the Internet for support via likes in agreement with my depressive status.

I stopped using my friends as my backbone and began to rely solely on social media for support, and social media did nothing to help me.

One night, while fighting back tears as I carefully detailed everything that was wrong with my body in comparison to a social media figure, I asked myself, "When is enough, enough?"

Impulsively in a fit of depression, I deleted my social media accounts.

I woke up the next morning feeling even more lonely, as I was missing out on everything that was happening online.

Following weeks of living with this feeling, I slowly began to feel proud of my decision to remove these sites that were so toxic to my mental health, from my life. My relationships began to improve. I started to feel better about myself.

Today, it has been almost a year since I was active on sites such as Twitter and Instagram. I love myself today. I am a more positive, trusting, and focused young woman today. The removal of these sites from my life opened up a lot of room to work on other projects, like finishing my degree, volunteering, and simply enjoying the world without a phone glued to my hand.

Today, when I see friends from years ago who ask me, "Where have you been?" I truthfully reply, "Enjoying life."