Detox

Finding some breathing room

It was the pandemic. It was the summer of protest. It was the tsunami of misinformation and conspiracy theories. The rage. The fury. All of it. I simply had to close up shop for awhile. I needed a social media detox, a stepping away. The grief and anger of the whole entire world flooded through my eyes whenever I logged on (which was incessant). How could I function when every piece of detritus, from presidents and pundits to middle school acquaintances and distant cousins, surged my bloodstream at regular intervals? I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t.

Deleting the apps off my phone gave me immediate relief. I put up a barrier, however small, between my beinghood and digital chaos. There was a line of defense shielding my humanity. It felt empowering. I wasn’t brave enough to delete the accounts though. The pull was strong to do it, to divest from the system entirely. But there were practicalities to consider. I needed a Facebook account for my job. Also what about that professional acquaintence I occasionally needed to contact? How about the trove of pictures, a record of my digital life for the last 15 years? How would I know people’s birthdays? The excuses were there, perhaps by design.

It wasn’t time to delete social media from my life completely, however strong the desire. Removing the apps from my phone would have to suffice for now. A quiet stand of resistance. If my only access to social media was through my laptop, I would spend less time there just by the nature of my daily schedule. I even created a dummy account for my job where I do nothing except manage my company’s Facebook group. It was a start. Perhaps the stepping stones to one day pulling away entirely.

It’s been months now and the difference is noticeable. There was of course the instant reprieve but then a slow unfurling. My anger wasn’t so readily accessible. My anxiety wasn’t constantly rumbling under the surface. I emerged into something closer to my true self. Whoever that might be. I’ve read more books in the last year than I think I have my whole life.

Sure I miss out on a few things. I know nothing about pop culture or trends. I’ve missed some birthdays and a few life events. Globally speaking though, I still know what’s happening in the world. Thank god for journalists and newspapers.

The more I’ve educated myself about giant social media companies, the more I want to divest completely. Internal documents show that Facebook knew it pushed users into extremism. YouTube’s algorithms do the same thing. Google provides income for sites spreading misinformation. Conspiracy theories abound. Anyone can say they’re a journalist or a doctor or expert. In fact, words can be put in the mouth of real experts and doctors. There are no background checks or credentials. It’s the wild west where laws cannot keep pace with the speed of technology. The only rules protect giant companies from any accountability at the safety and expense of its users. The human factor isn’t even afterthought. It’s a nonthought.

If we don’t build policy and regulations for these companies, I will eventually delete my accounts. One day I will stop propping up the system that undermines democracy and chips away at our humanity. One day I will walk toward a personal definition of liberation.

One day.

I hope this doesn’t come off as preaching. I realize what a privilege it is to take this stance and it may not be the right choice for everyone. My income isn’t dependent on my social media presence. I’m not an entrepreneur who needs these platforms. I live in a giant city with several circles of friends. I’m connected in real life. Not everyone is in the same position. And perhaps, yes perhaps, there are people who can manage their media consumption better than I.

What I do wish we could do, as a people, a nation, and a species, is just pause. To take a moment in the middle of it all - the doom scrolling, the YouTube wormhole, the rage commenting - and ask ourselves: is this who I want to be? Do I want to be plugged into a system where a select few make money off my anger, fear, and hatred? Is my humanity worth that price?

Perhaps if we take that moment of pause, those few seconds of reflection, the world will be better for it. It’s a small ask, something between a prayer and a plea, but I think it’s our answer. Or at least a piece of the answer. If nothing else, stillness, in any capacity, gives us space to meet ourselves and reconnect with what is true and right. Certainly we all could use a little more of that.