time spent offline

Silicon Valley says I should download this app and that as if it is for my own good. Asks What is on your mind? as if we are besties, lovers, friends. Constantly nudges me with its cheap tricks to look, look, look! I say, no, no, no— hell no! I look to life desperately: Please help.

Life, willing to pay any price I ask of it, asks, “Are you sure this is the price you want to pay? Just so you’s sure, sweetheart.” Might as well, I say to no one in particular— a long, long time ago. Because if I know one thing, one thing for sure, the living is costly either way. I delete social media, quit the news, dumb down my smartphone. I try all the tips, tricks, and tools I read about online, in the books, the podcasts, and videos to unplug, disconnect, and spend less time online. Life shrugs and adjusts.

I keep on keeping on.

Steadily, gently, one foot in front of the other. I trip and fall flat on my face a few times; take a few punches on the way down too. You think this would be easy? You think you can just delete a few apps, track your ScreenTime meticulously, and get on the express train to delight? Oh no, baby. No, no, no. time spent offline is no joke: No gimmicks to save you from your self-inflicted, Silicon Valley sponsored misery. Quit social media and do what? Be a nobody? Who’s going to hire you without a perfectly curated LinkedIn profile? Who will love you without the dating apps? I find out the hard way. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from my journey and get on the express train to delight. That is one reason I write.

I spent many, many, many years, months, weeks, days searching for delight. Thank god for time: Time was all I had. I don’t know why I didn’t give up, why I believed so surely that this is it, that I needed to get off the digital train. It was taking me on the fast lane to nowhere. I knew I was wasting my life. Something in me— God? The universe? My damn self?— kept whispering, shut up and keep going. “But, but, but…” I protested. It was taking too long, I hated myself for being so weak, I couldn’t put the phone down: “Don’t you see, I have tried!” I pleaded. I gave up social media, this stupid dumb smartphone that can only get me places, and all the attempt after attempt to maintain focus long enough to read a paragraph; it all felt futile. Silicon Valley was smarter, better, stronger than lil ol’ me. Yet, with nothing but my hope for a better future- no, not for you, not the world, but for lil ol’ me- I envisioned something else, something better, for myself and so I believed. Do you believe? Do you believe that there are far better things on the other end of “the internet?” than the endless digital noise? I wanted to find out.

After a while, it was too late to go back anyway, that I knew. But I was still trapped: One foot out— no social media, a dumb smartphone, disconnected, and drowning in the deafening silence of the living that remained, and the other foot in— lurking Reddit threads, scrolling internet stuff, and still drowning in the deafening noise of the internet. And when I tried to go back, and I did go back to Instagram, the Universe- God? My damn self?- screamed in terror: WHAT IS THIS HELL? Don’t you remember three years of heaven without social media? What is social media for anyway? I couldn’t come up with a good enough answer so I deleted Instagram again and with that I committed to the relentless pursuit of time spent offline. No, not to unplugging, disconnecting, and fighting Silicon Valley sponsored misery, but to finding what remained on the other side.

Without the noise, I had to face the ruins of my life after years of it spent on the devil’s playground— the “internet.” First I had to face how completely alone I was. You see, when there is no internet-people to escape to, you realize how much time you spend physically alone. My social skills were atrocious— the internet made me dislike people. With all the opinions, thoughts, feelings, ideas I was exposed to, I found it difficult to respect people. When I got offline, I learned people in reality are far more reasonable and good company, and easy to like. Plus, I had no choice, I needed to love people if I was to survive on this side of the living. The price to pay for getting offline is to learn to love Others as if your life depends on it— it does. To my delight, outside of the internet, when you pay attention to people, they are very likeable— funny, interesting, full of things that make your belly ache— with joy, terror, laughter; a real delight to be around.

Then, at the same time, without escaping to the internet, I am forced to face myself. For years, I had the perfect tool to ignore myself. No thought went noticed, all of it drowning in the noise of the digital escape. Offline, I am forced to consider, because I have no choice, what is so bad about me that I must always escape myself scrolling, tapping, clicking? I lean on pages and pages of journaling, the books and podcasts, therapy, and everything in between to answer this one questions that begs to be asked by all of us: What is so bad about me that I need to escape myself constantly? The truth, my truth, knocks me down to my knees: Nothing. I cry for so long I feel I won’t stop crying; I want my digital pacifier back. I am angry— who is responsible for all these years, all my youth, wasted on running away from myself when there was nothing to run away from? How dare you? How fucking dare you… Of course, nobody to blame. We, the adults and children alike, all bought and drank the Silicon Valley Kool-Aid collectively; without much critical thought. It was all so shiny, so brand new, so colourful, and our humanity got the best of us; adults and children alike. Who knew better to save who? Ah, well.

I am still on the relentless pursuit of time spent offline. Slowly, as I would have hoped for and believed, better things, far, far, far better things are emerging. I no longer need to fight Silicon Valley sponsored misery; I am too busy in these offline streets. ScreenTime is boring anyway! Who cares how much time I spend on my phone if I am texting friends, hours spent talking on the phone with my dad, and typing ideas for time spent offline in my Notes app— yes, the Substack newsletter— and music that delight my ears and soul? ScreenTime is a good start; a decent tool to tell you that yes, you are wasting away your one wild, precious life on social media. But, time spent offline is the relentless pursuit of all that remains when you go offline: Time, you, and reality all around you. So real. Life pays any price you ask of her. What price is your life worth?