I Broke Up with Social Media for One Month
And how I plan to move forward with our new relationship.
As mentioned in a recent blog post, I spent most of November on a social media break.
I mean, kinda? I run other people’s social media as a part-time job, so I didn’t completely delete the apps off my phone, but I logged myself out so I couldn’t read my own DM’s or scroll through my feed.
I also still had to be on to manually erase and archive my IG/Twitter/FB posts. (Mass deletion is not something they let you do easily. There are bots, but I don’t recommend any of them. It took over a week to get rid of it all.)
But when I look back at a cringe-y post like this, I’m SO GLAD it’s all gone.
Sure, it’s harmless, and my immediate reaction (and why it’s stayed up for SEVENTEEN YEARS, long enough for a child to become old enough to go to college) is “Aw, I still love melon and Martha Stewart!” That’s what Lynn in her 30’s, checking out this new thing called “Twitter” was thinking. But now, in 2024, it’s become “What if someone who hates Martha Stewart wants to hire me and searches my Twitter feed and finds this and I lose out on that job?!?” Sorry, (ewwww) X.
I don’t need these kinds of thoughts taking up brain space anymore.
For me, not checking my feed and logging out of the apps on my phone was a big lifestyle change. It’s maddening how often I immediately grab my phone out of boredom. I’ve always known I’m addicted but I don’t think I knew how much of a control it had over me. I’m always scrolling my feed: Waiting in line at the drug store 📲Commercial break on TV 📲 My cafe partner went to the bathroom 📲 I’m going to the bathroom 🚽📲
Since I didn’t have a feed to scroll, I found myself grabbing my phone less and less…
… but I was still taking photos/videos. Texting. Listening to podcasts, watching YouTube tutorials, reading a book on my Kindle.
I was and am still an addict. 📲
But honestly, I wasn’t trying to diminish my cell phone usage. What I was trying to quell was the knee-jerk reaction to respond publicly to everything (and also the curiosity to read other people’s knee-jerk reactions). Before I even had a chance to form an opinion for myself, I would take a social media temperature and find myself regurgitating what someone-I-knew-from-a-thing-five-years-ago-but-never-talked-to-anymore had said.
I don’t even know where this urge comes from, I was never one of those people in school who spoke up and needed to have my voice heard. But this desperation to be included in the conversation, to let everyone know what I was thinking… it suddenly dawned on me, when I was radio silent — that I did not want to add my voice. And that nobody was even asking for my opinion!
I wanted more time to myself with my thoughts.
I quite enjoy creating content. Despite the algorithms, soul-crushing comparisons, and occasional trolls, I have found making videos and writing blogs to be very fulfilling. Vlogging, as I mentioned in the Kyoto post, is the best of both worlds for me. I know I can’t not have an outlet. For one thing, so much good has come from sharing my life publicly. I’ve made real connections because of it.
Much like when I had to change my relationship with food after my eating disorder, I know I need to change my relationship with social media after burning out. And much like my eating disorder recovery, I know this will be an ever-evolving journey.
This is how I want to treat social media: like the projects a parent would put up on their refrigerator. Like the ever-changing art on my Frame TV (above). It’s whatever I want to share, good or bad. It’s of the moment. But I feel relief in knowing that it is coming down. I am treating my feed as something changeable, archive-able, delete-able. I don’t want what I post to be out there for any stranger to stumble upon and judge years (or even days) from now.
I really wish that I didn’t give a Hootie & the Blowfish (yes I just made that up) about likes/views. Or who’s recently followed me or who has unfollowed me. But I do. And I have for as long as I’ve been on the internet. And I don’t like that.
For me, it is as damaging to my spirit as looking at the numbers on a scale. For the last two decades, I haven’t owned a scale and I’m so much happier. But whenever I see the scale at the doctor’s office? I shake. I fear they’ll write down the number (I ask them not to tell me) and I’ll mistakenly see it out of the corner of my eye. I wish I didn’t care. But I do.
It’s challenging for me not to compare myself to others, or to former versions of social media me. It’s challenging when someone I respect disagrees with my values and my lifestyle.
Yes, I could callus and thicken up my skin again, but I think what I need to do is admit I have wounds and to stop rubbing salt in them. Bottom line is: I was so much happier the month I was off social. Quitting everything feels drastic, but maybe more regular breaks need to be something I weave into my regular self-care, much like facials and massages.
I would love suggestions if you’re struggling with this too.