I’m tired of the performative nature of social media. It’s a distraction that creates so much mental noise. I need a detox, a complete shut off. Not deleting accounts (necessarily), just walking away with the idea I could go back if I chose.
I’ve done so much this last year, maybe too many things, and not nearly enough of what I’ve wanted for myself. It’s been a year of transition. Learning. Giving up and moving on from that which no longer (or ever) served me.
I feel as if I’ve been rendered creatively depleted. Wrung out. Dried up.
It’s time to replenish.
I’m eager to discover who I am once I drop everything I’ve been forced to carry. Social media will be just one thing I leave behind.
I’m going to give up TV as well (it won’t fit in the Airstream anyway) and get back to good books. I long for my patience, my ease. It always feels better to sit with stillness, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Which I remember whenever I slip into it. But too often I reach for that remote to put on distractions. Maybe it’s loneliness. Maybe it’s my mind’s way of seeking numbness.
I need to break from that draw, that captive desire to distract. Leave that part of me in Texas with who I used to be.
When I left California in 2008 there was no Facebook, no Instagram. Let this return be to more than just a location.
I’m eager to strip everything away, to remove things, habits, patterns. Like the belief I need to shrink. To keep my vulnerable thoughts a secret, to only show what is perfect.
Poppicock. I want to be messy and random, spontaneous and unresolved. Rebellious, dangerous, throwing caution right into the wind. Whimsy in every corner.
Already I feel myself turning up my nose to situations or plans that aren’t ideal for me. I’m no longer content to go along to get along. I call it growth.
The next chapter is nearly here, it’s been such a long time coming. Hard to believe I’m about to flip the page to whatever comes after this.