I just needed a break.
I’ve long said that my insatiable need to be in the know would make it impossible for me to step away from social media. I’ve made countless excuses, citing my “civic duty” to stay up to date on sociopolitical developments and my desire to keep up with my friends’ updates.
But after the November election cycle, I told myself it was time. My daughter was becoming more aware of her surroundings and, by proxy, my phone use. I would feed her at night with one hand and doomscroll Twitter with the other. It was time for a change.
It has been roughly six months since I decided to tune out the noise. In the time since, I’ve checked off dozens of movies from my watch list, read 16 books and spent more time making music than I have in years.
I’ve got to tell you, it’s really good on the other side.
Together, apart.
Social media has allowed me to keep in touch with so many great people that I’ve met over the years. It feels good to be connected with people and up to date with their lives. But those micro-connections are just that: Micro.
Since stepping away, I’ve taken the time to call and FaceTime friends to really catch up. It’s fun not knowing what they’ve gotten up to since we last spoke. Instead of “I saw you went on that trip…” I get to ask “What have you been up to?”
It feels like we know each other so well, but we only know each other’s highlight reels. To some extent, it’s nice to have that. It’s actually much harder to keep in touch when you have to put in the work. But to me, the tradeoff is worth it.
Boredom breeds imagination
We’ve lost our ability to be bored. I’m sure you’ve felt it yourself. Whether you’re in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, standing in line picking up lunch or taking the elevator up to your office, you’re likely doing it all with a phone in your hand, scrolling away.
I could barely eat breakfast without refreshing Twitter. I couldn’t imagine a bathroom break without a good Reddit session. I was always afraid of where my mind might go and what new anxieties I’d unlock.
It turns out that when you’re not being constantly fed by the doom machine, your imagination can re-emerge. Your thoughts can be unclouded. Your inner monologue can calm. Let your mind go and see what you find. It might surprise you.
The ads machine
You are constantly being sold something. Social content is designed to rage-bait you. Engagement wins.
All of this plays into the ultimate goal of these social platforms: to create a rabid user base to drive ad revenue. You’re expendable. You’re another dollar sign. Your dopamine addiction is padding the bank accounts of tech execs.
(The irony is not lost on me, writing about this as a digital marketer in 2026. I’m working on a Meta ad campaign for a client as we speak.)
I’ve noticed a shift in my psyche now that I’m not being barraged by ads all day. That endless urge to consume is starting to dwindle, and my wallet thanks me for not buying stupid shit all the time.
Hope is a helluva drug
Bringing a child into this world is an exercise in optimism. You want to believe that things will get better… that the next generation will be the one to figure this whole thing out. And while that rarely turns out to be the case, we do have to pinch ourselves and remind each other that there’s a lot to be hopeful about, even in increasingly chaotic times.
I’ve been working on localizing my hope. Looking at my community to see the trends happening and how they might scale elsewhere. What am I noticing? Things are looking up. The pendulum will shift.
The things you miss
I’m still adjusting. I totally missed the entire college football National Championship back in January because, in part, I was off social media. It wasn’t until I got a text from my dad saying, “What a game!” that I realized I missed the whole thing.
I was also a little too out of the know. I have been using email newsletters to bridge that gap, and I get a quick summary of the world happenings every morning, then go about my day. Opting out of the 24/7 hellscape has done wonders for my anxiety.
But what the hell do I know?
There’s no way for this not to sound a little preachy, and I’m sorry about that. I don’t judge. I was as bad with my phone as the next guy. I get it. I just felt compelled to share.
I credit my daughter with giving me the guts to take control of my dopamine addiction. I don’t think my convictions would’ve been strong enough to log off without those little brown eyes staring up at mine, which were glued to my screen more often than not.
Maybe you’ll find this interesting, or maybe you’ll roll your eyes. But when I realized that I spent a quarter of my waking hours looking at other people’s lives instead of living my own, I had to do something about it.
There’s so much nuance that we miss without presence. The slow sway of the branches, the way the light hits a room differently each season, the flicker in your partner’s eyes as they share exciting news. Call me sentimental, call me a hipster, whatever. But now that I can feel the passing of time, and I’m doing my best to grab hold of every second I can.
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