I’ve just wrapped up a digital detox. I have organized my sock drawer, tried anchovies, and stared into the middle distance while thinking about the meaning of life.
I have read six books and knitted two scarves and two hats. I’ve gone to at least 17 Pilates and hot yoga classes and listened to meditation on the app I freeload from my sister.
I’ve taken apart the vents and fans in the house and vacuumed them.
I have made progress on the goal of eating 30 different fresh fruits, vegetables or greens each week which has set off grumbling both of my stomach and my husband about his stomach. I assure him that this is good news as our gut biomes are diversifying.
I’m contemplating how to organize my bookshelves. By colour? By topic? Alphabetical won’t do. The Dani-decimal system?
In addition, I have worked, helped other journalists with their stories, and walked around campus enjoying the fresh start of a new year.
There’s been some good creative juices and I made a game for my class where I used 8 bit graphics and created a choose your own adventure style activity.
I’ve helped a friend set up a new co-work space.
I’ve worked on a book proposal.
Since it’s been unseasonably warm, I’ve also went on many slushy walks. But the detox month ended with a cold snap. -24 which is cold, but not really unexpected in January.
Most of you probably didn’t notice I was gone and that’s fine. With the algorithm these days, we never really know who sees what.
Because of course, to some extent I still had to look at my phone, I read a lot of recipes on the New York Times cooking app, read the Globe and Mail, and read the New York Times itself. And I’ve listened to many, many podcasts.
I’ve been thinking about a few things and compulsively, as a writer, I need a place to put those things. A journal will not do. I can only rouse myself to write in my journal by thinking about the people who will read it after I die. Maybe at the provincial archives. But I have very little interest in writing solely for myself. It’s not that I find it too navel-gazing its that I want attention too much.
Personal reflection is the same if people read it or not. But for me, there’s very little satisfaction in producing something that other people don’t see. That isn’t to say my personal ruminations on life are really that interesting. If I’m boring myself with my own inner thoughts, I should probably not expect that people will be reading them at the provincial archives one day. But then again, I once read the diary of a farm wife who wrote about the weather. So you never know.
I can’t say whether this digital detox has made me happier. I had a major dip in my mental health for the last few months of the year that had me returning to medication and therapy. And in general, I don’t feel all that happy but that could be just because my brain doesn’t make serotonin in the way that it’s supposed to.
I have felt calmer though. Less inclined to repeatedly check if I’m missing out on something. I have also worried that friends have been messaging me and I don’t know about it. But they have my phone number if they really need something. I’ve also been texting people out of the blue for short snippets of conversation.
Every once in a while a thought will pop into my head like hey what does Stephen King think about Justin Trudeau resigning and I’ll have to restrain myself from checking Threads or wherever he is these days.
It was a good pause but I’m also glad to be back. Winter is long where I live and there’s only so much time one can spend on self improvement.
Welcome back!