The alarm blares, I open my eyes to the familiar glow of my phone screen, which is already buzzing with the noise of the outside world.
Within seconds, I’m caught up in the whirlwind — my coworker is getting married next week, my old friend’s grandmother passed away yesterday.
one person’s life ended, and another person’s life began.
my loser neighbor is sharing her troubled relationship with her loser husband on social media, she gives advice to other married couples, even though she failed in her own.
And there I am, before I’ve even rolled out of bed, absorbing all of it like a sponge. Before long, I’m tempted to add my own voice to the cacophony.
Should I post about how exhausted I feel before the day even begins?
Should I share that nagging sense of unease that I can’t quite shake off?
It’s a strange ritual, this daily download of emotions and trivialities, but it’s become almost second nature.
I catch myself just in time, phone in hand, about to type out something that feels intensely personal. And I wonder — when did I start sharing so much before I’ve even taken a moment to check in with myself?
I think back to the days before smartphones, when sharing a thought meant picking up the phone to call someone or jotting down a note in a personal diary. There was a deliberate slowness to it, a mindfulness that seems absent today.
Now, the barrier between my inner world and the outer one is almost nonexistent. Privacy has become something I have to actively protect, rather than the default state it once was.
This constant, compulsive sharing has consequences — ones I’m only beginning to understand. Every post, every update is a piece of myself that I offer to an audience, often without considering the impact.
Relationships fray over misinterpreted messages, self-esteem wavers with every like or comment, and somewhere in this digital exchange, I lose sight of who I am when I’m not performing for the world.
There was a time not too long ago when I realized I had started to measure the worth of my experiences by how “shareable” they were. A sunset wasn’t just beautiful; it was a potential post.
A meal wasn’t just delicious; it was content. But in the rush to capture and share these moments, I was missing out on truly experiencing them.
It hit me during a quiet walk one evening. The sky was ablaze with colors that only happen at dusk, and I instinctively reached for my phone to take a picture. But then I stopped.
I took a deep breath, put my phone back in my pocket, and just looked. For the first time in what felt like ages, I let myself be in the moment, without the need to document it. And it was in that stillness that I realized how much I had been missing.
That walk was a turning point for me. I began to crave those moments of silence, of being fully present in my life without the interference of a screen. But I also needed an outlet, a way to process my thoughts and feelings without putting them on display for everyone to see.
That’s when I rediscovered the power of journaling.
I’ve kept journals off and on throughout my life, but in this digital age, they’ve taken on a new significance. My journal isn’t just a record of my days; it’s a refuge. It’s where I can explore my thoughts without filtering them through the lens of social media. There’s no pressure to be clever or insightful, no worry about how my words will be received.
It’s just me, my pen, and the page.
I started writing in my journal more regularly, finding comfort in the act of putting my thoughts into words.
Some days, it’s just a sentence or two about something that’s on my mind. Other days, it’s a full-blown reflection on something that’s been bothering me. The freedom to express myself without judgment, to explore my emotions in private, has been nothing short of liberating.
Journaling has also helped me break free from the dopamine loop of social media. The instant gratification of likes and comments had a hold on me, pulling me back into the cycle of constant sharing.
But in my journal, there’s no immediate feedback, no external validation. The satisfaction comes from the clarity and peace of mind that comes with honest self-reflection.
It wasn’t an easy transition. At first, journaling felt lonely compared to the buzzing activity of social media. But over time, I came to appreciate that solitude. It became a space where I could truly connect with myself, away from the noise and distractions of the online world.
Now, I try to keep more of my life for myself. Instead of sharing every frustration or joy online, I write about it in my journal. Instead of scrolling through endless feeds, I spend a few moments each day reflecting on what really matters to me. This simple shift has brought a sense of balance and sanity back into my life.
In a world that seems obsessed with visibility, choosing to keep parts of my life private feels almost rebellious. But it’s a rebellion I’m embracing wholeheartedly. There’s something profoundly empowering about reclaiming my own thoughts, my own experiences, my own inner life.
So, as I sit here on another ordinary day, I make a conscious decision. I close the apps, set my phone aside, and reach for my journal instead. I take a deep breath and start to write, knowing that this moment is mine and mine alone.
