Yesterday my husband asked me if I heard about the Panera Bread woman who started having heart palpitations after drinking the overly caffeinated lemonade they sell. My answer was no.
I killed my relevance on social media nearly 3 years ago. I deleted all my apps and Instagram posts and did not watch or view a single story or post. I didn’t do it to preach social media abstinence or for any noble reason really. I stopped tagging, posting, memeing and blogging because I needed a reset. I deleted my window into comparing myself to others’ accomplishments, because I was hurting when a few of my closest personal relationships got turned upside down after I changed careers.
I wanted to heal in silence and without a constant stream of other people’s lives to consume.
At first it felt like cutting off my own arm. Millennials like me grew up on AOL instant messenger, Myspace, and the oh-so-satisfying red bell of Facebook comments that became part of our collective DNA as a generation. We’ve been sharing our inner dialogues, posing for the best photos, and working our hardest to scrub the worst of ourselves off the internet. Fights were spurred from Top 8 changes, and our passive aggressive music choices sang what we wouldn’t dare say directly to our highschool exes. Then Instagram came along and swept us off our bored little feet into an endless world of entertainment, social hierarchy and a creative give-and-take that would put even Shakespeare’s writing pace to shame.
I didn’t intend for my social purge to last as long as it did. After a month of breaking the habit, I kept going because I became refreshingly indifferent to the constant flux of content. My phone became quieter and I eased into irrelevance faster than I expected. I became “that friend” who you couldn’t tag in a photo or share cat photos with. I lost track of current memes and relied on friends to share breaking social news. Matthew Perry died in October and I didn’t find out until December. Fans of Friends all united in a shared social depression and I was one step behind.
After a few years of social silence, I learned more than I expected about how growing up on social media influenced me – the good, the bad, and the neutral. At the risk of sounding holier-than-thou, I wanted to share some tidbits before I turn my notifications back on.
What I Missed
I missed my fringe friends. My self importance felt like I was abandoning people that I only caught up with on social media. I don’t know if this is healthy, but where’s the fun in always knowing?
The mindless memes I ended up replacing with Love Island anyway, which means I also missed following the D-rate celebs like Love Island cast members.
I missed connections with would-be friends over the years. Instagram feels much less committed than sharing your phone number, and it’s not as vulnerable as texting a new friend. So, when someone asked me for my Insta handle on a night out, I didn’t have one to give and it marked the end of some level of potential friendship. Their response was always, “Oh good for you, social media is the worst,” and then silence beckoned from both ends.
Sending and receiving cute photos of babies and pets on Halloween and during the holidays if ever I was feeling down or lonely.
I missed the entertaining distractions at the airport while travelling and waiting around during delayed flights. There’s only so many times you can check the weather app.
What I Did Not Miss
I didn’t miss the constant distraction of relevance, which I’m defining as a social narrative that strives for being seen as having everything perfectly figured out to impress people from your past. But also at the same time trying to make it all seem effortless.
It was refreshing not to consume other people’s lives before 9am. I did replace this distraction with other less-than-perfect habits like reality TV, but I was able to set better boundaries when I turned on a show because I didn’t succumb to using my phone for watching it.
I was more present when I spent quality time with my husband or a friend, so I didn’t miss having that itch of checking into a virtual world when I was enjoying the real one.
I didn’t miss saying the phrase, “I saw on your Instagram that you were just in Europe!” I liked that I was always coming into a hangout with a fresh point of view and ready to have a conversation naturally about whatever came up, or didn’t.
Following political turmoil and mindless doom-scrolling that led to underlying and persistent anxiety, ya didn’t miss that. During Covid I think it gave us all a sense of agency and control to check the facts obsessively. Now, with the continued coverage of wars and suffering, and without actually taking any action on that news, it becomes fearful energy that loops through our minds subconsciously. I remember in school it was always encouraged to stay up-to-date on world affairs, and I agree to an extent, but there also needs to be personal boundaries around how and when we consume that turmoil. Sympathy or empathy after a doom scroll will not contribute anything meaningful to people suffering. Compassion and action will.
I did not miss comparing myself to other people’s accomplishments and adventures while I gained a healthy 10 pounds and enjoyed reality TV on the couch.
What I Gained
A healthy 10 pounds. Obviously not because of social media, but I’ve thickened both in skin and curves. I’m not mad at it. The fitness career years kept me moving around a lot more than my remote computer work life, but I was also considerably more stressed, so I’ll take the 10 pounds.
Digital minimalism made room for gardening, building my own furniture, crafting macrame art, and taking singing lessons. I also performed a few creative writing pieces as part of a local San Diego writing group.
My fantasy meter was off the charts, because I read more other-wordly books than is healthy I’m sure of it. I’d do anything for Rhysand and Feyre.
I logged into my financial management app as a healthy distraction more often, so my finances like me a lot more.
And Now
I’m coming back online with a more neutral perspective because I’m 1000% flawed, successful, unsuccessful, perfect, and imperfect. My goal is to keep what I gained and lose what I didn’t miss. You can expect my posts to be more of a window into a creative writing process that dives deeper into learning from other people, and less about what I accomplish in life. Granted this first one is about me, but hopefully it’s also relevant to you too. I removed many of my former posts because my point of view has changed over the years and I want what’s posted to reflect that.
One thing I understand better about myself through this socially-mute period is that I can have an obsessive personality. It’s a trait which can work for me when it comes to going after a specific goal. It can work against me when an obsessive thought becomes toxic. You know, like trying to be funny, beautiful, quirky, grateful, kind, ambitious (but not too ambitious), successful, wealthy (but not too wealthy), creative, honest, trustworthy, compassionate, modest, confident, fun, spontaneous, adventurous, witty, interesting, healthy, mysterious, sexy (but not too sexy), different (but not too different) and FUCKING PERFECT ALL AT ONCE, because I feel so goddamn imperfect most of the time.
To our parents and grandparents, be grateful you had the opportunity to be sad and unsuccessful in silence. Most of the older generations don’t get the significance of going dark on social media when they say things like, “We were born having to call each other on the phone.” Really, Aunt Carol? You had a little telly connected to your umbilical cord did you? My dad calls me every time I text him, to which I reply “Dad, I can’t talk right now, that’s why I sent you a 3 paragraph text message.”
Maybe we’ll all take after my Aunt Carol when our children live on as holograms and we can tell them, “You know, we were born having to construct social identities on the internet and we had to fight tooth and nail to stay relevant to ourselves.”
I’m still over here just wishing the Panera Bread lemonade lady all the best in her lawsuit.