The MySpace Days

Like many of us, for me, it all started with Myspace.
Yep, that’s right – good ole friend Tom. {If you know, you know}.

I remember the excitement of customizing my profile, picking out a song, choosing my Top 8 like it was life or death, and even learning bits and pieces of how to code so that I could change the font on my page or add a glittery banner. It felt fun, creative, and totally harmless. Almost like having your own little website.

Back then, social media didn’t feel like something that could take over your life. It was just a novelty – a hobby. A little digital playground.

Then came Facebook. Instagram. Snapchat. TikTok.
And slowly, the tone shifted. The platforms changed. And so did we.

Quitting Cold Turkey

For a long time, I didn’t question it – until I did.

A random YouTube video first made me wonder why social media now felt like social noise. Then The Social Dilemma cracked something open for me. I ended up writing a paper and giving a presentation in college about how digital input affects the brain – our focus, motivation, and ability to be present in real life.

It fascinated me.
And honestly, it deeply concerned me.
{no, I am not anti-tech or anti-internet; I actually have my undergraduate degree in computer science – but I realized this is a very scary issue}

So I quit.
Cold turkey.
Ghosted.
Disappeared.

For nearly three years, I lived without social media.
No scrolling. No posting. No checking in.
And I didn’t miss it one bit.

In fact, it was almost like it never existed in the first place. Life without Instagram, Snapchat, TikTok – it felt like stepping out of a storm I didn’t even know I was in. Suddenly, I had space. Space to think. To breathe.
To simply be.

And maybe most surprising of all? I discovered who actually showed up when the algorithm wasn’t holding things together.

Back Online in LA

Then came California.

A new city. New community. New chapter. My family wanted updates – photos, stories, ways to stay connected – so I re-downloaded Facebook. Just for them. No scrolling, no extras.

But soon came the nudges:
“You should get back on Instagram, it’s great for networking out here.”
“You kind of need it these days – especially in LA.”

Eventually, I gave in.
And before I knew it, I was back like I never left: scrolling, comparing, overthinking everything – disassociating. My mental health crashed.

The calm I’d built faded into static. I felt fragmented, like I existed in two places: the life I was living and the one I was curating.

The breaking point came when a friend hugged me goodbye in LA and said: “I’m not even worried about keeping in touch with you when you move. You do such a good job updating us through Instagram!”

I know she meant it kindly. But my stomach dropped.
I’d become easy to follow – but hard to truly know.

Coming Home

When I moved back home, I knew something had to change.

This time, I didn’t delete in a panic. I paused with intention. I asked myself: “What role, if any, should social media have in my life?”

And the answer was clear: I didn’t miss it. Again.

Yes, some connections faded. But I realized – if someone only knows how to engage with me {or others} through an app, maybe they aren’t meant to walk with me into the next chapter.

And the people who did matter? I hadn’t met them online anyway. I met them in real life: at work, on set, at my apartment complex, jiu jitsu class – not online. Social media didn’t bring me those people.
Life did. Showing up did.

What I Know Now

Here’s the irony: so many of us stay online not because they love it, but because they’re afraid of what they’ll miss if they leave.

But the truth is –
they’re already missing it.

They’re trading real life for scroll life.
Their own stillness.
Their own clarity.
The sacred, beautiful, messy in-between moments that don’t come with a filter, a caption, a double-tap, or DM.

That’s what I almost lost. That’s what I won’t give up again.

I’m not here to say social media is all bad.
But I’ve learned this:

If something constantly steals your peace,
if it warps the way you see yourself,
if it leaves you more drained than inspired –
you are allowed to question it.

You are allowed to step away.
You are allowed to come back on your own terms – or not at all.

Because you are not obligated to be constantly available.
You don’t have to be visible online to live a meaningful life offline.

And the best version of life?
It isn’t the one you post or scroll through.
It’s the one happening in front of you right now.

It’s not the randoms in your DMs. It’s with the people who are right in front of you, waiting for you to look up from your phone.

If you’re afraid of missing out online, then chances are you’re already missing out offline.

So, stop the scroll.
Log off & live.

Watch this for a new perspective on life/how we spend our time:

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