So, I lasted 10 days… and then I totally caved. I opened all my social media apps after deactivating them at least 10 times on day one. Those screens were just sitting there, blank and begging me to sign in — and the urge to hit that “log in” button was so strong, it was almost laughable. Honestly, resisting it was exhausting. It felt like this silent tug-of-war going on in my brain, every hour, every time I mindlessly reached for my phone.
Ten whole days without scrolling, posting, or checking notifications felt like forever, especially since I’ve been glued to social media for years — to connect, to distract myself, to feel something, anything. The only reason I even made it that far was because I got really sick. Like, bedridden sick. From Monday to Friday morning, I barely moved. I didn’t have the energy for anything but rest — but even then, I wanted to be online so badly. I craved the noise. I just wanted to feel like I was still part of something. My fingers would hover over the app icons like they were making the choice for me.
I kept wondering what I was missing. Did anyone post something huge? Did people forget about me? Did my absence even matter?
But around day 6 or 7, the pull began to subside. The silence started to feel less like punishment and more like… peace. It was a bit monotonous, yes — but also strangely relaxing. I realized how much time — my actual life — was being consumed by mindless scrolling, and how noisy and my mind had become chaotic as a result.
So, why return if I didn’t feel compelled to be online? Honestly, there were two reasons. First, I can’t completely eliminate social media from my life. Second, it satisfies my social need, even if poorly. So many of my interactions with my friends are now based online. I had a day when I wasn’t sick and went out to hang out with my friends. We were all in the same room together, and everyone was sharing videos. When I logged back on, I had over 85 messages on Instagram and more than 100 on TikTok.
And yeah, I’m fully aware this is an addiction for me. To my phone. To social media. No dramatic flair, just facts. It’s not just “too much screen time.” It’s something deeper — tied to my coping, my relationships, and, weirdly, even my identity. And I don’t love how true that feels.
Since I see this blog as a form of social media too, I took a break from it and went back to journaling. Just messy, unfiltered, no-audience writing. It was such a relief. I could say exactly what I felt without worrying how it came across. I could be raw, angry, sad, bitter — especially when I was writing about people I’d never name some of them but 1000% described well enough that they’d know it was them.
Honestly, how many of those conversations do we really need to keep having out loud? Sometimes I just need to vent without making it a teachable moment.
That time offline made it really clear what I’ve been ignoring. I’ve been bottling so much — and trying so hard to keep this blog light and positive that I didn’t notice I’d crossed into quiet pessimism. I didn’t stop caring, but I did stop believing things could actually get better. I was just hoping they wouldn’t get worse.
Now I’m back on social media, but I’m trying to do it differently. Less autopilot, more intention. I don’t want to be ruled by this little screen, but I also don’t know how to live without it yet. Still figuring it out.
Some days, I want to delete everything all over again. Other days, I’m okay just checking in here and there. Even that shift — the awareness of how it affects me — feels like progress.
Still trying. Still learning. Still working on being better.
P.S. Even though I’m back online, I’ve turned off all social media notifications. If I’m going to be here, I want it to be on my terms — not just whenever my phone decides I should care.
