I made my Twitter private today. I also had Ross (he’s my husband if new here) change the password so I can’t log in. I’m thinking of deactivating it in a couple weeks.
I also put up the equivalent of an Out of Office on Instagram.
This was all after witnessing a scenario that showed what is truly the worst of social media. I watched it unfold, tossed my phone on the bed, and said:
I don’t think social media is inherently bad. I’ve made amazing connections with people on Twitter and Instagram, particularly in the endometriosis community. But most of those connections have shifted to real life—or text life, at least—so I don’t feel like I need to be on either network to feel connected to people.
And, really, I wasn’t feeling connected there anymore. As much as I was consuming it, I felt like I was being consumed in a way that just doesn’t feel good anymore.
I’ve asked my husband to be patient with me during the inevitable dopamine crash. For all its faults, Twitter did bring people into my life who share my very specific sense of humor; I’ll miss the validation that comes from knowing I made someone somewhere laugh.
But I need to tuck in a bit and focus my energy elsewhere. Here where I can be more selective about how I engage and have the time and space to be more thoughtful. On consuming things that aren’t engineered to make me angry and sad. On rest and reading and having conversations with the people I choose to talk to, people with whom I share my life and I know operate from a place of good faith.
This is a really long-winded way of saying, “Hi, again.”