The trick that cured my social media addiction (but would kill social media if everyone did it)

Carina Magyar
Sep 7, 2018 · 3 min read

Facebook and Twitter make me unhappy. Instagram doesn’t, but that’s just because I never open Instagram.

I can’t stop opening Facebook and Twitter. The endless discovery of what people are doing, linking to, fighting about, sharing … it became a true addiction, one that I couldn’t wean myself from because that hit of dopamine, or whatever, was too powerful.

I recently quit smoking cigarettes. I don’t really know how. I guess the phrase is “cold turkey.” But after 20 years, I finally stopped. Now, months later, I breathe better, sleep better, wake up feeling okay in the mornings… it got me to thinking about what other addictions I could control. Or quit.

But the problem with social media, when I quit it, was that there were unhealthy side effects to quitting. I’m a comedian, and almost all my notices about shows that are being booked were on Facebook and Twitter. Also, the only point of contact any show bookers had for me was Facebook Messenger or Twitter DM. If I truly dropped out, as I had once or twice, my bookings would dry up, along with some significant income. Sure, scrolling through feeds was unhealthy for me. But the pervasiveness of social media made it as necessary to my livelihood as a telephone number and an internet connection.

How to keep the connective benefits of social media while curing the depressive downside of endless, pointless, mindless feed scrolling?

That’s when it hit me: wipe the feed.

I didn’t disconnect. I didn’t delete Facebook and only keep Messenger (because certain private groups on Facebook are too valuable for professional networking). I didn’t nuke my Twitter account and with it the proof to bookers that I can command a following and turn out content. As far as anyone can see, I’m still “on” Facebook and Twitter.

But I unfollowed everyone. Everyone. Even my family. It felt ruthless. But it worked.

Now, when I log in to Facebook, I see my notifications panel (so I know when important posts are happening or someone’s trying to get a hold of me), my own posts (can’t unfollow yourself) and any comments on them, and a very select few groups that keep me informed and connected to my comedy peers. That’s it. After three days of habitually checking this non-feed every 15 minutes, I quickly trained myself that there’d be no dopamine rush. There was nothing to see. As far as I could tell, Facebook was a ghost town. A personal blog / voicemail box. I checked less and less frequently. Within a week, I was responding to notifications, saying what I needed to say, then logging off, like someone with self control or something.

Now, when I log in to Twitter, I see nothing but whatever sponsored post they want me to. My tweets still go out, still get liked, still get retweeted. My follower count hasn’t appreciably dropped. I just … checked out. It feels like my personal blog. I can search on a hashtag if I need to. I can tap into the vast wealth of chatter if it’s crucial. But there’s nothing to grab my attention and hold it for long stretches of time, slowly depressing and scaring me and killing my precious minutes of life.

Of course, if everyone did this, the comments and connectivity would dry up. That’s why I’m kind of reluctant to write and share this. But if everyone did this, the power and control Facebook and Twitter exert over our lives, our culture, and our society would also dry up. That doesn’t seem so bad.

It feels like living off Halloween candy. I know that eventually my lack of engagement will show, my profiles’ reach will gradually dwindle, and I’ll be essentially off the grid that has sustained my social life for so many years. For too many years.

But in the meantime, I’m free of the parts I need to be free of, and still benefiting from the parts I need to benefit from. I’m using these free services like a customer, shopping for what I want, leaving what I don’t behind in the store.

The old adage is “if they don’t charge you, you’re the product.” I don’t feel like a product anymore. My attention span is back where it belongs, on productive things. I’ve regained control. I can breathe more easily, sleep better, wake up feeling okay in the mornings. I’m free.

Carina Magyar

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