Shelf Life đŁ: Nobody cares about your digital detox
Plus, the secret saturated social media platforms don't want you to know. And why writing letters to your friends is the new âquiet quittingâ of social media
Friends!
Youâve seen it everywhere: on Instagram, Twitter, and yes, even Substack. You canât swipe four paces without a story from an internet âfriendâ about why they are leaving / quitting / pausing or detoxing from social media or their digital life.
Some are more extreme than others:
Letâs get into the details.
Whatâs really going on here? And why do these announcements feel so, hmmm, cringe?
BEST BEFORE EO MARCH: digital detox posting
Firstly, thereâs two types of posts we are looking at here: 1 the BIG announcement post: you are leaving digital life for good, or for a short period of time, and 2 the inevitable return post, âIâve been on a digital detox,â or itâs more truthful twin âIâve been gone for a bit for various life reasons.â Both of these types of announcements are ultimately redundant and insanely boring.
Let me just pause and state that I actually applaud the concept of a digital detox. I do it all the time. I stopped using Instagram beyond desktop for work in 2019. I recently set my phone to permanent do-not-disturb mode after reading teens do this from day one, and Iâm about to install a smartphone-ban at home after being inspired by this college campus, I might even make my smartphone a fixed-desk-only tool soon, too. With a wifi-free model for on-person use. But let me STOP RIGHT THERE! I expect my droning on there had you reaching for your phone, anything, for distraction. Iâm committing the same boring-ass faux pas Iâm about to lambast, and hereâs whatâs going onâŚ
Posts about your digital detox are not actually informative. Noone, besides maybe your mum, actually requires this information. Definitely noone on the internet. Hereâs a secret about saturated social media platforms: noone will notice youâre gone. There, I said it. Even MY MUM is so all-consumed by Other Peopleâs Lives the moment she opens her smartphone, sheâs too distracted and attention-poor to think, ânow where is my dear third daughter today?â She wouldnât notice, honestly. Not because she doesnât love me. But because smartphones are attention-hungry monsters, designed to siphon your mind into weird looping warps of void so that you canât remember where you started or who you even are. Most likely, like everyone else, my mum is too busy doom-scrolling memes, tutorials, other peopleâs dogs, and brand reels to even be conscious of the fact she hasnât seen her own daughter post another seascape in a few years. Seriously.
Itâs performative. Just like every other post youâve shared, this one is a bid to say something about yourself or the world. And the underlying subliminal message isnât pretty. I say this from experience, friends. Yes, I too have fallen into the trap of telling people I was leaving social media (ONCE!). Only to feel sick-to-the-stomach and immediately delete it. Frankly, itâs unkind. It makes other peopleâthe ONLY audience for this post are people on social mediaâfeel bad. Itâs power grabbing, and superior. Probably, itâs late at night and they ALREADY feel bad because they are breaking their own useless self-imposed rules, time-limits, or phone-free zones. This is one step away from smug-con (look-my-life!). You might as well post a selfie wearing Dior sunglasses lounging on a sunbed in St Tropez balancing a mimosa on your tanned buttocks with a caption about living your best life.
It never lasts. This is the embarrassing part. Youâll be back, and then likely very queasy about the fact you told everyone you left. This might make you think you need to send another post explaining why you are back. Which is even more excruciating and self-flagellating than your partner walking into the bathroom while you are taking a shit. It stinks. Itâs mortifying. Donât do it friends, just donât go there.
And finallyâŚ
It defeats the point. Posting about your digital detox shows that you still consider the platform you are posting on to be a worthwhile distribution mechanism, and a place worth of your time and effort. You probably took twice as long crafting the post as your did detoxing from the internet. It really is the digital equivalent of eating your own shit.
So what goes in its place?
Just, um, disappearing. Like a fart on the wind. Drift into the ether friends. Enjoy your mountain walks with the dogs, phone-free. Enjoy a life untethered to your device. Enjoy your runs along the beach without Spotifyâs Discover Weekly. Just do it. Take a leaf out of these guysâ books. Now thereâs two happy mobile-internet-free beings. (Back to my smartphone-ban planningâŚ)
Also, writing letters. Yes you heard me right. Postcards, little notes, and handwritten missives. These will never grow old. My friend Jess and I exchanged handwritten letters to each other throughout 2021 and I felt more in touch and closer to her than ever.
Last year, I found out on a podcast that one of my favourite authors, Dave Eggers, doesnât have a smartphone or social media. On his website he invites fans to write to him. So I did just that, hand-delivering my fanmail to his address in San Francisco. A few weeks later: the best Christmas present I could have imagined. A handwritten reply from Dave, responding to my note. A joy unlike no other. Better than any email or IG DM, I could feel his personality lift off the page with each cursive flourish.
My favourite people are the postcard-sending kind. If you need inspiration, head to this new Substack:
Have you been on a digital detox and posted about it? Are you sick to death of hearing about other peopleâs digital detoxes? Iâm all ears in the comments, folks, and want to know what you think!
what Iâm reading //
My Name is Lucy Barton, jumping on the Elizabeth Strout train (sent as a gift from my mum, thanks mum!). A lovely brief read (compared to my usual Sci-Fi, this is tiny). With a harrowing twist, and beautiful examples of dialogue.
This history of teens and social media data, from
, in his new Substack:Next in my stack is this beauty by Jenny Odell, the kween of switching offâŚ
what Iâm listening to //
This episode about deep reading with Ezra Klein is probably finally what tipped me over the edge about digital detoxing, particularly the concept of deep reading and removing devices in the vicinity of our two-year-old.
Also, Margaret Atwoodâs new collection of essays Burning Questions, read aloud by Margaret, Naomi Alderman and other greats, listening on the fantastic free audio library app (works with your library card, UK only), Borrow Box.
And what are you reading and listening to this week? Leave a comment below!
I don't know â there are folks I've missed who've evidently taken themselves offline for a bit (eg. https://twitter.com/MartinBelam who I know is still writing for the Guardian, but as far as I know didn't post any big "I'm leaving Twitter" message, he just went) â after a while I find myself wondering "what happened to so-and-so?", and dig out their Twitter page and see that they posted about some kind of break. Better than the alternative surely, which is being left to wonder if someone's shuffled off the mortal coil? I've experienced this too and it's not much fun lacking closure.
Also... it feels a bit mean-spirited making a specific example of Alison at the start here? It didn't particularly read to me as an "I'M LEAVING TWITTER FOREVER!" flounce, could just be a reference to a post-work holiday? If that was my tweet I'd be a little upset to read a whole newsletter calling me "cringe" :(
Yes to letter writing!