An attempt to break my social media habit

I recently experimented with a new strategy to break my social media habit, which I blamed for how little I had been writing lately. Until then, making my devices less accessible by hiding them in another room or turning them off altogether had not reduced my social media cravings. I’d also loaded an application on my laptop that blocked access to predetermined websites for specified periods of time. However, that app did not work on my cell phone so my access to social media was effectively undeterred. The only solution was to physically separate myself from all gadgets capable of connecting to the world wide web.

I could endure long stretches without looking at my cell phone if I was doing something that impeded my ability in some way, like hiking or paddle boarding. But I would always turn it back on at the first possible opportunity. During a recent hike up Old Rag Mountain, I did not have cell reception most of the time. I could feel my phone buzz to life, though, when we reached the top and a few bars of reception appeared. I quickly scanned all my social media before continuing down the backside of the mountain. My excuse for not leaving the phone in the car was that I did not have a camera so I needed it to take pictures of the beautiful scenery that I would, of course, later post on social media.

I wanted to spend sedentary time thinking and actually writing, so I decided to sit in a nearby park for one hour. I planned to attempt that level of separation from my devices one or two times each week until I worked my way up to daily one hour respites from the internet.

My usual excuse for never leaving home without my mobile device was that I did not wear a watch. I needed the phone to tell me the time. I solved this problem for the park excursion by bringing with me the battery-powered analog clock I kept on my nightstand.

After stopping at a coffee shop to pick up a latte, I settled into an unoccupied, shaded bench free of bird droppings. I scribbled a few thoughts in my journal about the beautiful weather and how great it was to be able to enjoy the real world without interference from the virtual world. Then I checked the clock. About ten minutes had passed. I could hear it ticking.

I thumbed through a half-read book. I gazed off into space. I studied passersby. Women pushed strollers with one hand while gazing at their cell phones raised up in the other hand. A man who looked homeless slumped on a nearby bench. Joggers raced by. A young man strolled past wearing an untucked and half unbuttoned white collared shirt, a necktie dangled around his neck, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His smile did not radiate shame, but his slouch signaled otherwise.

A teen-aged girl wearing a strapless, white, lacy gown, surrounded by a deep purple, frilly cloud of giggling friends paraded by. I guessed I was witnessing the documentation portion of a quinceañera. Teetering atop spiky heels, they gingerly walked on their toes across the grass until the photographer directed them to stop. He arranged them into various combinations while two older women snapped candid photos and recorded video on their cell phones. The girls awaiting their turn to be photographed took selfies of their heads squashed together, their lips puckered up with sexy, pouty attitudes. I wished I could have captured the scene for my own social media.

I touched my pockets whenever I felt phantom buzzing. After an hour, I raced home and grabbed my phone as soon as I walked in the door and scrolled through all my social media for another hour.