My first day after deleting every social media app from my phone felt liberating and deliberate. I began by announcing on my feed that I was officially on hiatus for the joy of missing out. In parallel, I shared a story with a link to this very blog, so anyone curious about my experiment could follow along in depth rather than bite‑sized snippets. With each tap of “uninstall,” the digital clutter on my home screen vanished, and I swear I could feel the invisible weight of all those apps drop away. I was already noticing pockets of calm where I would normally have reached for my phone. My mind felt lighter, more spacious. Instead of reflexive scrolling, I found myself reaching for a book, or jotting down ideas that had been buried under a mountain of memes and hot takes. It was astonishing how free I felt when I finally broke the habit of letting every trending topic dictate my mood.
As I'm writing this now, I realized how much I miss uninterrupted thought. The silence felt like a gift. This blog, long neglected, now holds fresh reflections and aspirations. I spent more quality time with family too: from morning walk, lunch picnic in the park, play UNO after dinner. This practice reminds me that attention is a precious resource, one we often squander on ephemeral content. By choosing to unplug, I reclaim that resource for creativity, for relationships, and for the kind of introspection that fuels growth.
I'm not the first person doing this in my family. In fact, my daughters already did this since a couple of years ago. They both uninstalled their social media apps, choosing instead to log in only through my husband’s phone when school projects absolutely demanded it. My elder daughter went further, stashing the iPhone we’d given her and switching to a vintage‑style Android handset with a physical keyboard; the one that couldn’t even log into most apps, let alone Instagram or TikTok. She took this extreme route to eliminate distractions during exams and essays, and I have to admit, watching her exercise that level of self‑control makes me both proud and a little embarrassed. My younger daughter, though less theatrical, still opted for a minimalist interface that only supports calls, texts, and a solitary notes app. They explain that by limiting digital noise, they can devote their focus to studies and creative projects. Sometimes I tease them that they’re far more disciplined than I am, yet I’m also inspired. If teenagers can resist the pull of social media, surely adults like me can learn to do the same.
A wave of concern rolled in next as friends and acquaintances reached out to ask me to stay in touch. Their messages warmed my heart: “Let’s not lose our connection,” “How will we share updates?” and “Promise you won’t disappear on us.” I also posted on my (d)inner circle group to announce my hiatus. My commitment is clear: I’m not vanishing, I’m simply shifting the medium. From now on, I’ll invest my time in real‑life interactions, carving out moments for coffee dates, long‑form letters, and deep conversations over dinner tables rather than feeds. I plan to nurture quality over quantity: genuine discussions about ideas, experiences, aspirations, and even disagreements that lead to growth. If you’re wondering how to reach me, a quick email or a text will do, or better yet, let’s meet over a walk in the park. I want to dedicate my energy to building connections that resonate, not fleeting impressions that vanish into the endless scroll.
Let's stay in touch in real life!
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