Who Else Already Broke Their Resolution?
An update on my social media addiction
New Year’s Eve is actually one of my favorite holidays. I like dressing up. I like the excuse to stay up late but not too late. In past New Year’s Eve, I’ve counted down to midnight with big crowds and parties. Austin, Hot Springs, Brisbane. Beastie Boys tribute bands and AirBNBs on the lake. Gay clubs! Dive bars! That one karaoke place where a guy did the Numa Numa song! Plus, as someone who likes Mondays, 9am, and the start of a new month, it’s no wonder New Year’s Eve has always ranked high on my list of favorite holidays. I love a fresh start, armed with the silly photos and fuzzy memories of a night out on the town.
So spending the last day of 2024 crumpled up in a pile of heating pads, blankets, and Club Crackers was not par for the course. I got hit with a freight train of phlegm. It was no Hotel Vegas.
To spare you the details, I had the flu and it was awful. Katelyn and I have already set a reminder to get our flu shot in November 2025, so let this be a reminder:
Get your darn flu shot!
I missed out on my one of my favorite holidays, and the following days of mucus and aches did not make for a great beginning of 2025. I broke the resolutions I set for myself. But, in the chaos of it all, it was a decent test of my word for the year: presence.
If You’re DMing Me on a Wednesday And I’m Responding…No I’m Not.
I wrote a blog post for New Year’s Eve about how my previous job fried my brain. For months, I’ve been on a mission to bring my focus back. I don’t want to get sucked into the void of doomscrolling and social media as easily as I do. Even ten minutes wasted on shallow content is too much for me! (Substack doesn’t count.) I want to focus. I want to be present.
The weirdest, and most addictive, thing about social media is that it brings us to another world—one that, I could argue, doesn’t exist. One that is completely of our own making, too. The people arguing with you about politics might as well be bots. The posts you see are the posts you see because you clicked on something, you shared something you liked something. Your algorithm is not your mom’s or your grandfather’s or your neighbor’s. Maybe it’s your friends, but only because you choose to interact with each other in this weird whole through sharing and liking and commenting. It’s weird! And I have gotten so angry with the little world I’ve created—full of politics and snark and people saying things they never actually talk to each other about in real life—that I want out. Part of my goal for 2025 is to shut off social media and actually feel the grass under my feet, the wind on my face, the warmth of a smile from a stranger or a friend. That is what’s real. Not likes.
So how do I eliminate social media? Well, I don’t. I’ve outlined two separate times for posting, scheduling posts, and browsing: Tuesday afternoon, and Saturday morning. I aim to delete all the apps off my phone except for those times, hoping that when Tuesday or Saturday rolls around, I’ll be too lazy to re-download most of them.
It’s January 7, and I haven’t stuck to the plan. I feel much better than I did a week ago, but I’d say I was still sick up until Saturday. Cooped up at home, with little to do beside work and read, I could have given myself the excuse to re-download TikTok or Instagram. For the most part, I didn’t. For the most part.
Today, as I scrolled through LinkedIn on my phone (the ugly web browser version,) I admitted that eliminating social media from most of my week means that I have to eliminate my phone from most of my week. I don’t know whether this “addiction” is tied to the phone or the social media more, but I guess I’ll find out. If I could eliminate my computer, I would, but writing my clients’ manuscripts by hand isn’t the best use of my time. Thank goodness for the SelfControl app.
*To excuse my scrolling today, I’m sharing this lovely post with you on social media then high-tailing it off the Internet. We’ll see how that goes.*
Presence Over Perfectionism
I chose “presence” as my word for 2024 because it’s the antithesis of being on social media. Unless you’re watching a live event, social media only allows you to be present in this weird little world you’ve created for yourself that exists only in your brain.
I’m glad I chose presence because it scrapes and scratches against the glossy smoothness of perfectionism. If you can be present and unattached, it shatters the goal of perfectionism entirely. I am present, here and now, staying off social media, and that’s as perfect as I can be right now. That’s all that matters right now. (Well, that’s what I’m saying as I’m writing this, sitting at home, watching the fireplace and listening to the sounds of Funny Business eat his little treats.) What I did before this and what I do after this is none of my business at the moment because I’m fully present. I’m here. And not there.
On New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day, I tried my best to be present. I wasn’t there, on Instagram, thinking about what healthier people were doing with their evening. I wasn’t thinking about what to comment on LinkedIn. I wasn’t droomscrolling through comments. All that existed, in that moment, was my fluffy blankets and Funny Business’s diesel-engine purr. Katelyn sat downstairs in front of a roaring fire. It wasn’t the perfect New Year’s Eve you’d see on social media, but it was a perfect New Year’s Eve at that moment. Not every moment has been perfect since, but who cares? I’m not there. I’m here.
I’m here. Remind yourself of that, especially if you’ve already broken your resolution like I have. “I’m here, and I’m sticking to my resolution here and now.” You are? Congratulations! You’re doing great.
Feel better! Much-needed reminder re: perfectionism.