I Quit Social Media for a Month And Here’s What I Learnt
- Brainz Magazine
- Jan 24, 2025
- 5 min read
Written by Lucy Maeve, Transformational Coach
Lucy Maeve, a former J.P. Morgan salesperson turned trauma-informed coach, empowers high achievers to transform their stories from perpetual questioning of 'Is this it?' to living authentically meaningful lives. Featured in The Telegraph, The Times, and the BBC, her work resonates with those hungry for deeper meaning."
Do you know that feeling when your brain feels both overworked and strangely numb all at once? Scrolling endlessly, caught in the noise of everyone else’s lives and businesses, I felt my energy slipping away day after day.
It wasn’t a sudden decision to walk away. The thought had been quietly tapping at my shoulder for months, but I kept brushing it off, telling myself I couldn’t leave. “My business relies on this,” I’d say, like some sort of mantra.
But one evening, as I stared blankly at my phone, sucked deep into a hole about a machine that sucks out blackheads (don’t ask), I realized how utterly exhausted I was. I knew it was time to hit pause.
The first few days felt like taking a huge, deep breath after trying to swim too many lengths underwater. I had S-P-A-C-E in my life. My ego was giving me cheerleader-style high fives as it whispered, “Look at you, reading. And not just any old stuff, Alan Watts!” I felt free. Intellectual. Better than. The chains of comparison had dropped, and I could breathe deeper.
But after a few days, I was confronted with a sudden, deafening silence.
I caught myself mindlessly picking up my phone, thumb hovering over deleted apps, searching for something.
At first, I thought I missed the connection. But as I sat with it, the truth became clear: I didn’t miss the connection. I missed the illusion of it.
The trap of false intimacy on social media
I hate to admit it, but last year, I became a low-key social media addict. In part, for good reason my business relies on it. But the truth, with any addiction (be it the gym, cigarettes, booze, eating healthily, being “productive”), is that it’s hiding something.
We use the thing we are “addicted to” as a way of (unconsciously) numbing out the ache in our hearts that we’d prefer not to feel.
That’s what makes recovery from any kind of addiction so damn hard; we have to face all of the stuff that our addiction has been helping us to numb.
I knew this, and so I was partially intrigued to see what removing my “addiction” would show me.
And what it showed me was that I was lonely.
Social media has a strange capacity to make us feel close to people we’ve either never met or haven’t actually had a conversation within months. Like, how many times have you kid yourself that you’re friends with someone you’ve spoken to maybe once in your life but follow their every move?!
A cursory glance at an IG story makes us believe we’re involved in someone’s life. A quick “like,” and we’re doing what needs to be done to maintain the connection, right? It’s our way of saying, “I see you.”
It gives us just enough to scratch the itch for connection while keeping us too distracted watching strangers’ lives to notice that we’re starving for the real thing.
A quick scroll gives us just enough interaction to trick us into feeling connected. But, just like low-fat, low-sugar yogurt is no substitute for the real thing, the scroll holes will never fill your void of connection.
Stepping away from that constant feed of updates revealed something deeper for me. It wasn’t just about breaking the habit; it was about uncovering how much I’d been settling for these quick digital fixes instead of nurturing the meaningful relationships my heart truly needed. This realization opened my eyes to what we’re collectively losing and what we can reclaim together.
Seeking what we truly need
During my month-long hiatus, it became clear to me how much we’ve collectively replaced meaningful relationships with convenient (but dodgy at best) substitutes.
Rather than call a friend to ask how they’re doing, we’ll watch their Instagram story and assume we know. Instead of spending time face-to-face, we share 20 group WhatsApps and call it "catching up."
And whilst there is beauty in the capacity to connect with anyone’s "life" at the click of a button, I came to realize that the ease of the pseudo-connection social media affords me had become a trap, one that was starving me of the true sense of connection I longed for.
To build the true connection my heart longed for, I had to go first. For someone who, for years, would have died on the hill of “I don’t need anyone. I am independent and can do it alone,” that’s not always been easy.
But if you’re resonating, I’ll tell you this from the other side of the vulnerability hill: they want to connect with you, too. Will you let them?
So, am I quitting social media for good?
The short answer is no. But am I intentionally shifting my relationship with it? Yes.
What this looks like for me is focusing on longer-form content writing and speaking, limiting my time on IG (the Freedom App is a big help here), and building more community-focused offerings. This helps tend to my itch for a beautiful, real, open, and honest community while simultaneously serving you and your beautiful heart.
This experience taught me the cost of distraction and the beauty of intention. Anything we use mindlessly can become a thief of the tiny moments of meaning in life. So, bring your intention there.
If you’re reading this, I invite you to pause for a moment and ask yourself what are you scrolling away from?
What might you discover if you unplugged, even briefly, and allowed space for those truths to surface?
Perhaps, like me, you’ll find that your heart doesn’t want more followers or views; it wants you, in all your rawness, to show up for the life that’s right in front of you. Will you answer the call?
Read more from Lucy Maeve
Lucy Maeve, Transformational Coach
Lucy Maeve is a trailblazer in empowering high achievers to rewrite their narratives and embrace authentic living.
Drawing from her own journey away from a successful finance career, Lucy incorporates insights from trauma-informed practices and breathwork inspired by mentors such as Gabor Mate and Layla Martin. Her expertise, featured in The Telegraph, The Times, and the BBC, helps clients rediscover their true selves.
Based in Cape Town, Lucy's passions include (bad) dancing, ocean waves, and indulging in Lindt Orange Intense chocolate, all while striving to ensure no soul is left uninspired.
