Out of the Feed, Into the Moment: My Quiet Social Media Detox
I didn’t mean to compare my life to someone else’s beach holiday for the third time this week. Or fall into that oddly comforting black hole of kittens on reels. Or spend 15 minutes watching a Facebook video of someone restoring a 90s gaming console — a console I’ve never owned, never played, and have no interest in.
But there I was. Again.
And here’s the kicker: I wasn’t even mad at the content. It was lovely. Soothing, even. I like my friends. I want them to have a good time. I love cats. But I started noticing something quietly sour creeping in — like a low-grade ache.
It wasn’t envy exactly. It was… displacement. Like I’d wandered out of my own life and into someone else’s highlight reel. And then I’d come back — dazed, late, hungry, and wondering why I felt vaguely behind.
So, I did something kind of radical.
I started uninstalling things. Not in a dramatic, performative “delete all my socials” way — just in a quiet, curious way. App by app. Scroll by scroll. Because it turns out, the comparison spiral is real — and I wanted out.
Why Comparison Feels So Loud
You probably already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: social media isn’t real life. We know that, logically. But somehow, when your brain is tired and your dopamine is low, someone else’s third beach holiday this year starts to feel like a personal failure.
Platforms aren’t built to reflect reality — they’re built to capture attention. And they’re very good at it. Even the joyful stuff can trap you. A few cute kitten reels later, and you’ve accidentally spent 40 minutes consuming soft content that still managed to leave you feeling hollow.
And then there’s Facebook — which no longer even tries to show me my actual friends. I don’t know what happened there. It used to be the place where I saw my aunt’s dog and my mate’s weird birthday cakes. Now it’s like the bargain bin of the internet. A little too fringe, a little too sticky. Like if my brain had a spam folder, that’s where those videos would live.
It’s not just about content. It’s about how that content slowly re-wires the way you see your own life. Quietly convincing you that what you’re doing — what you have — is not quite enough.
Why the Detox Feels So Damn Hard
Let’s just admit it: detoxing from social comparison — or anything screen-based — is not easy. You don’t just uninstall an app and suddenly live in a meadow.
You reach for your phone. Out of habit. Out of boredom. Out of sheer muscle memory.
And when it doesn’t give you that tiny hit of validation or distraction, your brain gets a bit twitchy. Like, “Wait… where’s my little ping of dopamine? Where’s the nice lady with the beach holiday?”
Turns out, when the noise goes away, you’re left with… yourself.
Which, let’s be honest, isn’t always the vibe.
There was a study once — and I’m not making this up — where people were left in a room alone for an hour, with nothing to do. Just their thoughts. A surprisingly high number of them chose to mildly electrocute themselves rather than sit quietly. (With a scientist present!)
Apparently, silence is scarier than we think.
So yeah — this stuff is sticky. And the resistance isn’t just mental. It’s chemical. Emotional. Existential, even.
Here’s how I learned to work with it…
Variations on the Challenge (a.k.a. Choose Your Own Digital Adventure)
There’s no one way to do this. You don’t have to go full off-grid-in-a-yurt mode.
But you do need to pick a rhythm that gently pushes you out of autopilot.
Here are a few options I tried — or thought about — before going full Cold Turkey:
- No apps during working hours – reclaim focus, one notification at a time.
- No scrolling after 8pm – hello, sleep. Goodbye, bright rectangle.
- Weekend blackout – for family time and actual presence.
- Timed window access – 15 minutes once a day. (Didn’t work for me, personally. Still got the hit. Still wanted more.)
- Full Cold Turkey – the best sandwich of all.
I’m a sandwich person, so that last one worked. I cut it all out. No soft landings. No safety nets. And weirdly? I didn’t miss it for long.
I didn’t even set up a re-entry plan.
Because deep down — you know, I know, your neighbour down the street knows — that this is better. Calmer. Simpler. More you.
So… why would I go back?
The Detox: What Actually Helped
Step 1 – Log Off to Tune In
I started small. Instagram went first. I didn’t deactivate my account. I just removed the app from my phone. Like tidying a shelf I’d grown tired of looking at.
Then went the others. Apps I didn’t need. Ones I didn’t enjoy anymore. The vampire ones.
(That’s what I call my phone when I’m being honest with myself — the personal vampire. Because it sucks the time right out of me if I’m not careful.)
I leaned into the Digital Wellbeing tools already on my phone. Set app limits. Curbed endless browsing. Not in a rigid “productivity guru” way — just enough to make it harder to fall in.
Step 2 – Curate With Care
This wasn’t about digital minimalism as some pristine virtue. It was about feeling better. Like, actually better. In my body. In my day.
I chose to spend time with people who are here. Present. Real. Not filtered through a highlight reel.
I stopped trying to keep up with people I hadn’t spoken to in years. I unfollowed gently. Blocked things that made me feel itchy. I stopped giving my energy to people who wouldn’t notice I’d left.
Turns out, no one sends a search party when you stop posting stories. Bliss.
Step 3 – Reclaim Real Time
Once I cleared out the noise, something lovely happened. I noticed my own life again.
I sat on the sofa with my partner and actually talked — like with words and everything. I cooked without feeling the need to share it. I read in silence. I took aimless walks.
My phone became a tool again — something for calling people I love, or listening to audiobooks. Not an emotional slot machine.
How It’s Linked to Living Simply
Here’s the unexpected win:
Without the constant comparison, I stopped wanting things I didn’t need. Out of sight, out of mind. Less “oh that’s cute, maybe I need that,” and more “I’m fine, actually.”
Comparison makes you want more. Slowing down helps you want less.
That shift? It’s been great for my bank account. But also — and more importantly — for my brain.
I stopped feeling like I was behind. I stopped overworking to “catch up.” I found my own pace again. One that doesn’t involve constant measuring.
And now, most days, I feel like I’m in my “enough zone.” Not always. But often enough to notice.
Gentle Questions for the Road:
These days, I don’t think of it as “quitting social media” or “being better with my phone.” I just think of it as being here. Choosing presence. Letting things be enough.
I don’t want to live in someone else’s feed. I want to live in my own moments.
If you’ve been feeling that low-grade comparison ache lately, here are a few gentle questions to take with you:
- Is this helping me feel more connected — or more hollow?
- What would I do with this hour if I wasn’t scrolling?
- What does “enough” feel like — and have I already got it?
You don’t have to burn it all down. Just uninstall one thing. Turn one notification off. Take back one moment.
It adds up. I promise.