I have an addictive personality. I figured this out when I was about 12 and I could not put down Artemis Fowl, even at two in the morning. I had one of those lights that looked like a firework going off, and I had set it to pink—the optimal reading color—and I just kept reading. I probably finished the book in four hours. Then the anguish started. I knew I was going to be exhausted the next day. This was the first time I thought to myself, Well, at least I’m just into reading books. There are worse things to be addicted to.
I still do this. I will stay up and read (I finished the book Strangers in a few hours), but now I have a family and a job. I’m not getting up the next day and eating a box of Cocoa Puffs from a mixing bowl while watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch (highly recommend a morning like this, by the way).
You can only imagine what happened when social media came out.
I was in it and I loved it. I knew almost immediately that an unhealthy relationship was about to form. A book has an ending. Social media does not. Short-form content just gives you that yummy feeling over and over and over again.
That algorithm knows you. It listens. It’s perfect. It loves you. It’s just trying to make you feel good. It does not care what time it is, what you’re supposed to be doing, or what your responsibilities and dreams are.
Not only is the scroll addictive, it’s exhausting. When you’re reading a book, it’s the same story, subject matter, and flow. Different parts of your brain may be getting that good itch, but the information itself is consistent.
Socials, on the other hand, are all over the place: a bunny, a baby, a person eating eggs, ad, soldiers coming home (my favorite), things that are worth your money, ad, things that are not worth your money, how to optimize your life, the perfect lip combo, ad, and so on.
While you’re in it—just like when you’re in a terrible relationship—you simply cannot see how much it’s draining you.
I don’t think I’m ever going to stop the scroll completely, and I’m always going to be the person who stays up until two in the morning reading. I really enjoy it. But I’d rather be obsessed with a book, a project, or literally organizing my closet than spend two hours looking at things I won’t even remember the next morning.
What I realized is that I don’t actually want to do less. I just want better things to do.
First, I blocked my phone. (I use an app called Freedom.) Then I made a list of ongoing projects I actually want to do: learn to sew better, make the baby books for our kids, organize every closet in the house, clean my Sambas, and start writing.
The hardest part of making this strategy work is the in-between time. I want to scroll as soon as I have to do something important because I want to distract myself. I finish something and immediately decide I deserve a “break.” Apparently, every transition in my day has become an opportunity for a reward—and my brain has decided that reward should be my phone.
That’s the habit I’m actually trying to break.
The cleaning really hits. It hits real good.
A freshly organized closet or underwear drawer is the dopamine hit you want. There is something extremely satisfying about looking around and realizing that instead of spending an hour watching other people improve their lives, you actually did something for yourself.
I try to get excited about one thing on my list daily that I can do quickly. It doesn’t have to be a project. Organize a drawer. Call someone. Work on the baby book for ten minutes. And after a stressful day with one kid who has norovirus and the other with hand, foot, and mouth, organizing a drawer is honestly pretty relaxing.
The point isn’t to optimize every second of the day. That would be particularly ironic considering how much content I’ve consumed telling me how to optimize every second of my day.
It’s really just about having something else to reach for. Something a little bit better to do
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