A Birthday Detox Story
Freedom from Facebook and Other Distractions
I’m well into my recovery from the substances and technology of distraction.
I’ve silenced my text tone, deactivated Facebook and deleted my account on Instagram, blocked the least joy-producing of contacts from being able to reach my phone (thank you IOS5).
Getting off the social media sites (although Twitter still stands, if only to publish here on Medium) stimulated a flooding sense of relief. Mostly, these are people I already know. And I have gotten loud reminders lately that they aren’t exactly my greatest advocates. My friend from high school left the following comment on my instagram post of a couple holding hands as a romantic late afternoon shadow stretched behind them: “Creep.” It might be funny, as he intended, if it wasn’t the only contact I had gotten from him since 2012.
Facebook went weeks earlier, the day before Christmas Eve, when I received an angry message from a friend’s husband, berating me for something that happened between her and I. As I was reading his string of insults, I received a message from a regrettable and passing fling, who had misled me regarding his marriage status. The last time I saw him his wife verbally assaulted me and gave him a fat lip. Now, he wanted to know why I wasn’t returning his calls, why I was still so mad at him… didn’t I know he was through with his marriage? Actually, my thoughts have been elsewhere, darlin’.
It hit me that when I signed up for Facebook way back in 2004 (!) it wasn’t so I’d be easily accessible to lazy attempts at relationships. And likewise, I do not need the temptation to fill my own time curating a feed or nursing a mildly nostalgic desire to know where the girl I used to smoke with in college is (still) partying on Saturday night. I realized knowing this does nothing to help me live the best life and have the highest impact on the world. If we follow the Swedish study’s findings that the notification systems of social media apps are literally addictive, then I’ve been using this more habitually than any other intoxicant. Thankfully, I’ve long since kicked the cigarette habit, and I am inspired by my mother’s successful sobriety to pretty much eliminate alcohol altogether. (A rather ironic proposition considering my profession as a liquor license consultant. Sometimes it takes staring the beast in the eyes to conquer it.)
A saying about quitting: Not doing is easier than doing. The hard part, for me, is changing the storyline. I no longer can connect with people over smoke breaks, lushing out on tequila cocktails, or posting a JibJab on my friend’s Facebook wall. Now it’s: I don’t drink. I don’t use Facebook. No, I don’t indulge. Many of my social engagements have simply vanished.
Granted, I think we use all these distractions to fight some combination of boredom, anxiety, and the creeping awareness that our lives are passing by us and we haven’t done the thing we came here to do. But that reminds me of another saying: Don’t just do something, stand there. For my 29th birthday last weekend, a personally important one, I didn’t want to fill it with parties and fuel it with booze. I wanted to create space. I wanted to detox from the distractions so I could hear the subtle guidance from within.
So I turned 29 in the midst of a social, physical and technological cleanse. Without Facebook reminding everyone I knew, the day took on a luxurious quiet.
A divine and fruitful silence.
The more I eliminate the distractions, the more I trust myself to live life with purpose and clarity. And I enjoy it both for the experiences I’m blessed with and knowing that I’ve done the work and made room for what matters.
Without all the noise, I can listen to my deepest longings and consider my lifestyle choices through one question: does this contribute to my core desires?
