Quitting Social Media Didn’t Fix Me — It Showed Me What Needed Fixing

I didn’t have a plan to quit social media. It just kind of happened.

At some point, I stopped checking Instagram. Then Twitter. TikTok didn’t last long either. The last one standing was YouTube — mostly because I used it for podcasts. It felt more passive, less like the other apps. But then Shorts showed up.

Same format, same scroll. I didn’t think much of it at first. But I caught myself — just zoning out, flipping through clips the same way I used to on Instagram. Nothing bad, just… familiar. Too familiar.

Eventually, I realized I could get most of the podcasts I listened to on Spotify anyway. No video, no thumbnails, no sidebar full of suggestions I didn’t ask for. So I got rid of YouTube too.

No big gesture. No “digital detox.” Just a quiet decision to step away.

What followed wasn’t a wave of newfound productivity or peace. I didn’t wake up earlier, suddenly more focused or fulfilled. I wasn’t more patient with myself or others. The first thing I felt — and felt fully — was boredom.

Profound, right?

Not just the kind of boredom that comes from having nothing to do, but the kind that shows up when your brain’s been conditioned to constant input. There was no feed to refresh, no background noise, no low-grade stimulation always waiting at arm’s reach. Just stillness. And at first, it felt like something was missing.

I caught myself reaching for my phone out of pure habit. Thumb hovering where the app used to be, then stopping mid-air. Just… standing there.

But something interesting started to happen in that silence. My mind, with nothing to chew on, began filling the space in its own way. Not with clarity or to-do lists — with imagination. Notebooks full of ideas didn’t pour out of me or anything. I just started daydreaming again. Letting my thoughts wander. Building little mental storylines, drifting off into what-if’s and half-memories. At first, I resisted it — part of me still believed daydreaming was a waste of time. A childhood habit I was told to grow out of. But eventually, I let it happen. And honestly? I still get a weird amount of satisfaction from it.

It made me think about how our brains handle input — especially the kind we don’t even notice we’re consuming. Around this time, I was reading Everything Bad Is Good for You by Steven Johnson. His main argument is that modern media — even things like reality TV and video games — has been getting more cognitively demanding over time. It challenges us in ways we don’t always notice, asking for more memory, more social decoding, more pattern recognition. And honestly, I agreed with a lot of it.

But the book came out in 2005 — before Instagram, before TikTok, before social media became what it is now. Back then, media was still mostly about content. Today, it’s about hooks. Less storyline, more stimulus. Less watching something unfold, more reacting in real-time.

That said, I don’t think Johnson was wrong — I just think his argument doesn’t fully cover what we’re dealing with now. There are still parts of social media that fit his theory. The way we follow multiple plotlines across creators. The way certain formats, like long-form podcasts or video essays, encourage systems thinking and depth. That stuff’s still there — it’s just buried under an avalanche of algorithmic noise.

And stepping away helped me see the difference. Not because I suddenly became hyper-disciplined or spiritually enlightened — but because I finally had space to notice what I was paying attention to, and why.

That’s where I think a lot of the “dopamine detox” stuff kind of misses the point. There’s a growing corner of the internet that pushes this all-or-nothing mindset — cut out all pleasure, all stimulation, live like a Spartan, then maybe you'll finally be clearheaded and successful. But I don’t think that’s it.

I didn’t feel better because I was denying myself pleasure. I felt better because I stopped giving away my attention so easily. It wasn’t about deprivation — it was about awareness.

And over time, I started to see that I didn’t need to swing to the opposite extreme. Social media might not be the enemy. It’s just a tool — one that affects everyone differently. I know people who use it in moderation without spiraling. I’ve seen how it can be fun, inspiring, even useful. But I also know that for me, stepping away for a while gave me just enough distance to actually notice how it made me feel — and what I was reaching for it to avoid.

There’s this whole narrative online that if you want to be successful, you need to starve yourself of anything enjoyable — cut out all pleasure, always be grinding, never take a breath. And sure, maybe that’ll get you into the top 1% of whatever career field you’re in. You might be earning a seven-figure salary while all those other “morons” who let themselves enjoy life a little are making just enough to live a comfortable, fulfilling life. But then what?

Maybe, just maybe, you could still reach those unimaginable heights — the ones you see when you close your eyes and picture the life you want — without having to kill off every bit of joy along the way. Maybe the path there doesn’t have to be paved entirely in burnout and deprivation.

Maybe the real flex isn’t just getting there — but getting there intact.

And to the person reading this — you — I’d like to ask for one favor: cut yourself some fucking slack.

Striving to improve yourself is great. Setting goals, building discipline, trying to grow — that stuff matters. It really does. But somewhere along the way, a lot of us stopped asking why we’re chasing the things we’re chasing. Or who told us those things were worth chasing in the first place.

Do you actually want that goal — or were you just told it’s what success looks like?

Do you genuinely feel better grinding 24/7 — or are you scared of what it says about you if you slow down?

Wanting to level up isn’t the problem. That drive can be powerful. But if you never take a second to question where it's all pointing — if you're constantly trying to fix yourself without ever checking whether the version of “better” you're chasing is even yours — you’ll burn yourself out chasing someone else’s dream.

So yeah, push yourself. Improve. Go after it. But also? Breathe. Laugh. Rest. Be kind to yourself.

You’re not broken. You’re just here — figuring it out like the rest of us.