Disconnecting for Clarity: My Journey Away from Social Media
I found myself opening my phone constantly, drawn to Facebook, Snapchat, or whatever social media app my finger landed on. It wasn’t just a habit; it was an obsession. And every time I looked, I felt worse. There they were—people having a blast on their summer vacations, showing off their perfect holidays, or just going to some expensive restaurant I couldn’t dream of affording. Meanwhile, I was over here, just trying to keep my head above water, struggling to pay my bills. Yeah, I know the whole spiel about how social media only shows the best moments, the highlight reel, and we don’t see what’s really going on behind the scenes. But my argument to that? They were still there, weren’t they? They could still go on that vacation, buy those gifts, and eat at that fancy place, while I…I couldn’t even come close to keeping up.
I come from a time when the internet wasn’t a thing, and social media didn’t exist. The closest thing we had to “likes” were the cheers from our friends when we pulled off a cool trick on our bikes or when we beat a level on our primitive gaming consoles. However, in my childhood, I spent most of that time alone. No friends. Just my little brother to socialize with. So, I shouldn’t have a problem being without social media, right? But here’s the thing—there’s some deep-seated part of me that craves validation. Maybe it’s because, for so long, I felt invisible, like just some average no-name person with nothing going for them. And when social media came along, it gave me an outlet. Suddenly, I had a space where people could see me, where my thoughts, my pictures, and my life actually mattered to someone, even if just for a moment.
I used social media to broadcast my woes and struggles, everything from the challenges of getting my mom the help she needed, to becoming her caregiver when dementia took over her life. I aired my grievances about work, my mental health, and whatever else was weighing on my mind. It was a constant sharing—or rather, oversharing—of the struggles I faced every day. I needed people to know what I was going through. But over time, I realized that while I was putting myself out there, opening up my life for anyone to see, I wasn’t getting much in return. People had access to me, to my vulnerabilities, without offering any real connection back. It became this one-sided relationship where I was giving everything, exposing every part of me, and getting little more than a like or a comment in response. I needed that to end. I had to cut that lifeline that kept others connected to me without giving me any real support on the receiving end.
But that outlet turned into something I was desperate for, something I couldn’t stop myself from going back to. It was like I needed that little red notification, that ‘like,’ that comment to feel like I was still relevant, that I was part of something. So, I decided enough was enough. I deleted the apps from my phone. It’s like a form of social suicide—not in the way of killing off my character, but in pulling myself away from any kind of view. I cut off my access to the validation I had been feeding on for so long.
This year, I’ve made a lot of changes. I stopped taking antidepressants, choosing instead to focus on eating better and taking care of my physical health. I started taking responsibility for my own stupid decisions, acknowledging my mistakes, and working to move forward from them. I’ve come out of this as a more independent person, relying on no one but myself. It’s been a tough road, but I’ve grown stronger because of it. Now, this journey away from social media is just another step in becoming the person I want to be—someone who doesn’t need the constant approval or acknowledgment of others to feel whole.
And now, here I am, trying to see how I’ll do without it. Honestly, it feels strange, like I’ve just vanished. I know it sounds dramatic, but when you’re so used to having this window into everyone else’s world and letting them peek into yours, shutting it feels like you’ve just turned off the lights. Part of me is scared of what this means. Does it mean I’ll just disappear into oblivion? That I’ll stop mattering if no one can see what I’m doing or how I’m feeling?
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe I need to learn that my worth isn’t tied up in how many likes I get or how often someone comments on my posts. I grew up in a time when playing outside, riding bikes, and talking to friends face-to-face were the highlights of my day. Back then, we didn’t need screens to feel connected. So, why do I need it now?
I think the answer lies in that little nagging need for validation. Social media makes it so easy to feel seen, to feel like you are part of something, even if it is just digital. But now, I want to find out who I am without it. I want to see if I can feel content in my skin without the constant buzz of notifications telling me I’m worthy.
This isn’t going to be easy. I already miss the distractions, the mindless scrolling, and the occasional dopamine hit from a like or a comment. I know there’s a void that’s going to be left behind, and I have to figure out how to fill it. Maybe I’ll go back to some old hobbies or take up new ones. Maybe I’ll spend more time outside, just like I used to. Probably not because I live way too close to people and the moment I go outside, I feel eyes on me. So, that’s not happening. Or maybe I’ll struggle, feeling disconnected and out of touch with the world.
Either way, I need this break. I need to prove to myself that I can exist without the constant need for validation from others. I hope that in a few months, I’ll come out of this with a clearer mind, a stronger sense of who I am, and a healthier relationship with social media. If nothing else, I want to know that I can be okay without it. So, here’s to stepping away, cutting the cord, and finding out what life feels like when it’s just me, without the filters and without the ‘likes.’
