Let Something Blossom in the Space Left Behind - My Week Without Social Media

Does a life truly blossom if there’s nobody around to like and comment on it? That's just one question I asked myself this week, as I stared at the beautifully presented dish in front of me. Without the bombardment of noise from Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and Google's curated news app, I suddenly found a lot of space to think this week - and this is what I learned.

I like to think of the mind as a garden – it's almost certainly this analogy and its many offshoots that leads me to sharing so many flower pictures on Facebook. Maybe, I think, I can brighten someone's day and change the world a petal at a time, and we can all grow a little happier in the process. Maybe I'm too optimistic.

Like any other garden, the mind also needs an occasional trimming, like when you have the sudden urge to Marie Kondo your entire wardrobe, or mute some of the people on your Facebook timeline, just to cut out some of the noise, some of the weeds clogging up your thinking.

Honestly, I don't think there's too much wrong with letting things grow wild and untamed. For me, that means jotting down ideas for books I'll never write, or buying notebooks I will never write in because they're too nice and cost too much. With all of this going on in your head, the last thing you need is a shower of shit from the world above fertilising things and encouraging so many weeds to sprout from the brick-work that you end up lost in a mental jungle only half of your own making.

I confess that this is how I felt recently. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last. Usually in these moments, I despair and hide away, tearfully pondering the point of existence only to eventually surrender to the fact that this is the modern world, and I drag myself on for another round.

This time, however, I was a little more desperate. That meant desperate measures were in order, with the clouds thickening overhead. So I swiftly deleted social media from my devices, and stepped away from the noise.

Honestly? It's been great (although I've missed sharing flower photos and Instagram's story GIFs). What's more, I learnt a few things in the process:

There are some lovely people who really care (I had a number of thoughtful messages, and had a sneaky peek at my Facebook once to send birthday notes and saw some beautiful comments).

Everyone who tells you social media is overwhelming you is absolutely correct. There’s too much information for our brains to process at times – whether it’s memes, bad news, photos of kittens etc. etc. ad infinitum. Our generation is odd in that we grew up the last ones to not have a lot of technology as children, so perhaps we’re wired differently? Perhaps we can only take in so much? This is surely a flaw our tech-soaked successors will correct.

I put too much on myself. Too many ideas and projects and pressure and “life homework”. Books I've yet to read, books I've yet to write, photography projects that will never take off, and all these plans stacking up in the back of my mind were starting to weigh me down.

My mornings are a lot more productive (and my brain is quieter) without notifications to wake up to.

Of course, there’s much more that sprouted from these lessons than just what you’d expect to read from a sour-faced anti-social media commentator on Medium or Buzzfeed.

For example, I realised that, yes, said commentators are right about how social media warps our views of the world – and so do television and movies. To that end, I’d developed this picture in my head of the ideal life; living in a city, breakfast at my favourite place in Manchester (Koffee Pot – check it out), coffee while I write in a small café  (Fig + Sparrow), and a spot of shopping for more crystals from Affleck’s Palace. Oh, also in this dream life I have rockin' abs and no cravings for ice cream at 11 o'clock at night.

With all the extra space to breathe and think, my brain decided the best thing to do was to manifest the “ideal day” to process it – even if it’s just a day. So I booked Friday off, and did all these things.

It rained. It rained a lot. And people were walking slowly, and I got soaked, and I ate too much, and I was bored for a little bit of it. Suddenly, I realised that the ideal day was something stitched together from Instagram posts to create a Frankenstein collage straight out of a John Green film adaptation, or any show about New York ever. Then I saw two of my friends, and that was when the best of the day came out - it was the people, not the idea, that counted.

Elsewhere, I decided to re-evaluate my projects. Social media seems to have bred the idea in us that we must all become influencers or have something to say. For me, it was commentary on the art world and getting likes on Instagram. Without those platforms, I realised there’s nothing tangible there - those likes don't translate into people who would do you a favour when if you were ever in need, or who would send you a Christmas card on a whim. They were just passing strangers give me the briefest pat on the back.

Instead, I realised I’d rather just crack on with writing my books or this blog, so that I can have something to hold onto and think about. So, I parked art writing (deciding instead just to be one of those insufferable wankers in galleries, spouting off what I know), and let it go. I felt the sigh of relief somewhere in my ribcage.

Suddenly, I was on a roll, uprooting trees and trimming bushes, until my mental garden was something a little lighter and more welcoming. I could see the sun again, and all it took was to block out the outside world and be honest with myself.

I swapped my morning Instagram binge for yoga; instead of sharing a photo of my coffee, I just drank it and still managed to spill it on myself. But it didn't matter - it was a private moment just for me (and anyone watching when I did it).

And that ideal life? It’s coming. As one amazing friend pointed out, I’ve already achieved so much this year…I’m doing OK.

And that brings me to my final point – and one that is laboured, sometimes, to the point of exhaustion. Don’t compare what you’ve got going on with everybody else’s stuff. Don’t peek over the fence to check out how their roses are doing and if the grass is greener, when you’ve got a perfectly good bunch of hydrangeas and a three-piece patio furniture set to die for.

Will I stick to this new way of thinking? Probably for the most part. I missed Instagram too much not to be on there, but I won’t be spending as much time looking at other people’s amazing bodies and hating my own, or scrolling endlessly absorbing more information than I need. And I’ll be back to post flowers on Facebook, don’t you worry.

As for the rest…well I’ve cleared the weeds away, and I intend to keep it that way. In their place, something else – something more beautiful – can bloom. Isn't that what any kind of gardening is about?