A quick note before you begin…
In my opinion Substack has set itself apart from other forms of social media. I’m sure many of you will agree that this platform has a far slower and more spacious energy. To me, it seems to foster thoughtfulness and consideration and I truly treasure the conversations I have been a part of here as well as the sense of community I’ve found. On Substack, creativity doesn’t feel like a commodity. There is far less pressure to perform or to show up in a prescribed way. This alone makes me feel more willing to bring my whole self to the work I share here.
Dear ones,
Last November I made the decision to take a season away from Instagram.
It was my last form of active social media and I’d been trying to fit it into my life in a way that didn’t require me to sacrifice the things that matter more. I had taken breaks before, both planned and impromptu. I had tried using it cyclically by coming away for the duration of my bleed and hoping I’d be refreshed and filled with enthusiasm and inspiration by the time I returned. I had uninstalled the app and then found the flimsiest of reasons to log in and “check my messages” only to fall into yet another scroll hole. This time I was determined to do it differently.
For the first few weeks I didn’t log in at all, but I’d be lying if I said that social media wasn’t still front and centre of my thoughts. After that I would log in every so often with the intention of checking in with a handful of women whose words I had been missing. Every time without fail I’d come away after far longer than I’d envisioned feeling erratic and scattered.
This awareness grew more acute until it became impossible to ignore. Deep down I think I’d known for years that most forms of social media simply didn’t work for me. I’m incredibly sensitive, easily overwhelmed and value my solitude more than most. In my real life, I’m very selective about who I invite into my space. I had learned the hard way what happens when you let the wrong ones in. What I had yet to learn is that this was one of life’s teachings that extends beyond people.
It is my belief that the places we choose to frequent – both physical and digital – each have their own energetic signature. When I think of Instagram especially, there are a few words that come to mind. But perhaps the most prevalent of these is illusionary. It is increasingly fast paced, and often laced with poison masquerading as medicine. In short, it’s a beautiful lie.
To be whole is to be grounded in the present. It means being deeply rooted within ourselves so that we can interact with others from a place of integrity. When I consider this, it makes sense that I struggle to split my attention. I am a firm believer in what Brooke McAlary described in her book Destination Simple as single tasking, in bringing every part of ourselves to the moment at hand.
To me, social media is the antithesis of this way of being.
Here, our attention becomes currency. It’s no secret that certain platforms employ people for the set purpose of researching methods of manipulation, ways to keep users – this term alone should be enough to open our eyes to the addictive nature of these apps – attached to their phones and blind to the beauty that they might find if only they could pry them from their fingers. Unless we are incredibly conscious in the way we use them, it is virtually impossible to navigate these spaces in a way that doesn’t compromise our values.
It is also, so often, an echo chamber. And when we exist inside echo chambers it is easy to forget that there is an entire world of entirely unique human beings out there. Each person on this planet has their own bespoke set of beliefs and nuanced life experiences which have shaped and moulded them into who they are today.
Africa Brooke, one of the few I am still missing since I departed social media, talks often about the courage and commitment it takes to reclaim our authenticity after realising we have spent a length of time self-censoring. This is another of the core problems of the performance that often characterizes our digital lives: when we begin to behave in ways that we believe will win us the approval of others we become susceptible to forms of self-mutilation. I think far more of us are guilty of severing the controversial or unsightly aspects of ourselves than we’d care to admit. The irony is that in our preoccupation with being seen we often end up making a far greater sacrifice: our sense of belonging to ourselves.
It took me until the middle of July to finally delete my accounts. Eight whole months.
Still, the sense of relief I felt in that moment has stayed with me. In the weeks since there has been an infusion of vitality: a realisation that I am living my true values, that I have liberated myself from something that was keeping me bound. I feel as though, slowly but surely, I am restoring the sanctity of the creative act. This is something I spoke of briefly in my note on this topic – where you’ll find thoughts from others who are currently contemplating what a life without social media might be like – but I wanted to include the hope I’m holding closest here too:
That we may all find lasting satisfaction and fulfilment in the small, seemingly inconsequential moments.
If you want to slow down enough to truly savour each day, then stepping away from social media might just be one of the most powerful things you could possibly do. Our brains have almost become primed to capture the moment at hand and morph it into content. It’s time we remembered that our lives are so much more than this. And anyway, there is simply no way that the depth and complexity of the human condition could ever be compressed into a such a limited number of characters. May we craft our lives with love and care, not so that others may covet them but so that we can anchor into a sense of awe and reverence for all that surrounds us.
With Love,
Laura x
I love your idea about places having an energetic signature. I got out of the blue box 3 years ago but it wasn't until this year I deactivated my Instagram, yet to delete it. I knew these actions were in order to spend more time on the things I value and that give value to my life, but it made me feel like all digital activity was somehow tainted. After reading your article I think a good way to distinguish between these spaces is like you say, their energetic signatures. So maybe digital spaces can have healthy energetic signatures but any screen time remains a slippery slope into a scroll hole. Still, if I'm going to be stuck in a scroll hole, better it be one of authentic quality content than one of vapid manipulative junk? 😅
You don’t find yourself spending way too much time on Substack though? Cuz I do. I deleted Facebook cuz I couldn’t stop reading the comments. I deleted Instagram becuz I hated all the short-form video stuff but yet found myself scrolling through them for way too long. The other thing I found with FB and IG is that I was constantly clicking on them throughout the day.
When I first got rid of them, I felt the absence especially when I’d pick up my phone distractedly and then ‘oh right, there’s nothing to look at here’. I slowly became better about phone use. I hardly used it except for google searches and GPS.
And then I found Substack, and now all I seem to be doing again is reading posts and scrolling through comments. And with so many political-leaning Substacks, I’m back into that morass.
It reminds me of the days gone by when I had hundreds of blogs linked to my favorites. Now it’s the same with this.
I don’t think Substack is any less addictive than FB or IG. It’s still a life with head down, eyes glued to a tiny screen. Regardless of how lovely some of what I read is... it’s still NOT being in the present moment. Truly being present, the way we were in days of yore, would require this blasted seemingly-necessary expensive piece of machinery be no more.
Substack is social media, just a possibly more intellectual one. But I doubt it’ll stay that way for long.
If I don’t get my habit of constantly looking for the next post in hand, I’ll need to delete this app too. Life’s too short.