On Attention and Overload: A Quiet Exit When You’ve Reached Your Limit

I don’t believe in “new years resolutions”: for me, the new year begins on my birthday. It’s an intentional centering of self in a world that asks us to disengage otherwise. But…I did feel a spark of something fresh and new with this year’s New Year’s Eve - it was a sparkle of hope; a glimmer that felt extra fresh and special, like a cool breeze after a warm sauna…
It lasted for 72 hours.

What has followed has been a heavy-footed sense of dread that has led me to logging out of, and removing my social media apps from my phone, and forcing myself to resist the urge to check headlines before I’m out from under the covers. There was no “hey I’m logging off!” announcement. No dramatic account deactivations. It was simply a quick, clean snap; the same kind of snap that happens when the final catalyst occurs in a relationship or a friendship or at a job when the decision finally takes no more debate or dialogue. It’s an exit stage left, and no need for questions or second guesses.

I know that this is a form of privilege; to disengage and detach. I’m not saying that the apps are gone forever, but right now I simply cannot. My brain wasn’t wired to jump between the very real violence and deterioration that I see from one 90 second clip, to an ai generated dolphin video for 6 seconds, to yet another “quiet luxury” shopping haul, all with the gentle flick of a thumb. I can’t do it. Or rather, I can do it, as I have for the past year or so, but I no longer wish to. I don’t want to do it any more. And furthermore, I do not wish to contribute.

This isn’t a passing of judgement. I don’t believe myself superior for having “logged off”. If anything there is a twinge of guilt - surely I too should be glued to the constant updates and windfalls of information. I can hear the criticisms of “it’s a privilege to choose to look away” in my head. The thing is though, I am not. I’m not not present.

In the days from December 30 - January 2nd, the glorious 72 hours of glimmer and sparkle were lovely. I was on social media but not consuming: I was posting my content and hopping off to socialize, shop, and make new friends. I was traveling, eating ice cream, and browsing my favorite designer stores. It was the whirlwind of travel, friendship, champagne toasts, and celebrating the new year.

When I returned home old habits resumed: alarm, reach for phone, open social media, scroll. What greeted me within seconds was death. For three weeks now, my social media feeds have fed me fresh death, luxury hauls, and content-creation how-tos.

My brain does not know how to maintain the flight-or-flight, freeze-or-fawn responses that come with my emotional signals in high gear. My emotional gears are at such a high pitch that the noise is deafening. To calm it down I would scroll more, sometimes even faster - scanning for - what exactly? More information? On what? What am I seeking? More news? More distraction? And then the ai generated videos; I used to be able to immediately identify what was human and what wasn’t; now I can’t. I, in the very literal meaning can no longer separate the real from the artificially generated. Now throw in journalists whom I cannot verify, content that only cares about maximizing views and engagement, and “rage bait”; my head is positively spinning. Of course there are also very real, very tangible atrocities that are happening, and of those I want to remain aware, but whom do I trust? What can I trust? Perhaps the most frightening answer that I have heard myself say is that I could not trust myself or my own eyes: because my logic and reasoning was not saving me from the onslaught of constant information.

So I pulled the ripcord. I unplugged.

I wish I could say that my mornings are more quiet now (they’re not). Or, that the high pitch in my ears has come down a few notes (it has not). But I am working on it.