I am super-duper tempted just to plop in a link to an article here and call it a day, but…well, it’s me, so…epiphany and thoughts included, no extra charge.
But first…
The socials shift is continuing as I take a stand against my algorithms and shift my feed to videos that include puppies, kittens, otters, and the occasional sleeper shark in the China Sea.
Have you started cleansing your feeds yet?
Again, it’s not that I’ve opted to throw my head firmly in the sand; it’s that I’ve realized just how real the READ THIS NOW sway is on the interwebs. I’ve learned that if I spend more than three seconds on an article or video, I’m almost immediately inundated with similar posts. I don’t want similar posts. I want a wide range of posts that share a variety of opinions.
I’ve also shifted my news sources to BBC and Ground – both of which leave me less frantic, anxious, and angry. This is giving me the ability to have actual, intelligent input on the state of the world around me, rather than feeble attempts that almost always ended with me lashing out (usually at my husband, sorry love).
I consider that a good thing.
The shift has allowed me to get my socials back to what they were meant for, leaving me to collect my news where I’m most comfortable, at my own pace, form my own opinions, and experience my own reactions rather than mirroring those shoved down my throat by a boiling social media feed.
Five stars, highly recommend a social cleanse.
In the midst of this very unofficial project to spruce up my mental health, I came across a punch-to-the-gut article by Allie Marie Smith. Well, first, I came across a blurb from a Gen X’er who was told that her generation would be the first to die with fewer memories of their own lives than of others, and was so stunned to hear this that she immediately deleted all her socials.
That shocked me, and so I quickly went on the hunt for the supporting information, found here:
How Social Media Allows Us to Die With More Memories of Other People’s Lives and What it Does to Us
If the title wasn’t a clear enough warning, read further in to find this: Social Media can cause you to leave this world with few memories from your own life.
Um, holy shit.
Imagine lying on your deathbed, surrounded by family and friends, but it’s not your life that’s flashing before your eyes; it’s someone else’s. Or as your loved ones ask for stories from your past, the only things you can share are about others, because your life leaned towards digitally checking their stories rather than creating your own.
I cannot think of anything more sorrowful.
Admittedly, the idea of removing the screens from our kids’ lives is terrifying for many. I suppose that’s because many think of the act in terms of ripping off the band-aid rather than a slow ramp down. Either will do, really.
A few weeks ago, Rich and I went out to dinner, and our table sat between two filled with families. To my right, a couple with two young kids. To my left, a mom, grandma, and three young kids.
To my right, the entire table was locked into their devices. The kids each had a pair of headphones wrapped around their heads, eliminating any chance of interacting with the world around them. All four were mindlessly eating, in slow motion, with glazed eyes, oblivious to what was going into their mouths or, worse, who they were even sitting next to.
To my left, not a device to be seen. It is a rarity anymore, really, to see a table with nary a device to be found. It took about three seconds for Rich and I to start giggling at the interactions, at that table, between the kids and their mom, their grandma and the restaurant’s staff. They had no fear of eye contact, easily ordered their own food (the oldest couldn’t have been more than eight years old), and weren’t shy to sample from each other’s plates while trying to master chopsticks.
It was joyous.
It also emphasized the difference a single, simple change can make. Removing the devices from the table to our left completely changed the dynamic and created an outing that immediately became a lovely memory. The table to our right will only remember what they were viewing on their phones, if they are lucky.
Back to that article. One of the most telling parts of Allie’s story is her response to being asked what she’d done over the weekend. She couldn’t really remember. What she could remember, however, were the intricate details of what a friend had posted on her Instagram. It’s not that Allie hadn’t done anything over the weekend; it’s that, without the tickle to the brain that social media has caused us to rely on, the memories would just not come.
As the table to my left wrapped up dinner, their server came over with the check and, lickity-split, the middle child said, “Oh, I’ll take that! I want to do it today, Mom!” Mom handed him her wallet, told him which card to use, and then left to take the youngest to the bathroom. Sure enough, the bill-payer, all six years of him, pulled out the card, slipped it into the folder and handed it confidently to their server. He did need help figuring out the tip, of course, but the entire interaction was adorable.
Even better? Every one at that table has a new memory born not from aimless scrolling but from being fully present. I imagined that kid heading into school the next day and telling his teacher how he went to Ginger Red and tried potstickers, but had to stab them with a chopstick to get it off the plate, and loved his grandma’s tempeh shrimp and even got to pay the bill while his mom wasn’t even at the table.
Doesn’t that sound so much better than, “Oh, I can’t really remember?”