HealthLinksSC.com | 65 It’s that time of year. Clean out the closets. Ditch what doesn’t bring you joy. Clear out the cobwebs. In January, I committed to an early spring cleaning of self-care. This did not include trips to the spa, mud masks or massages. Instead, I unburdened myself of behaviors that don’t foster a better sense of self and the discipline to rid myself of unneeded tangible objects. Don’t laugh at that last part. It could happen. Closet doors thrown open, I ditched the skinny jeans. By that I mean “jeans I’m saving for when I’m skinny again” and not “the cut of jeans Gen Z kids declared uncool last year.” Dresses I’ll never wear again were given to charity. Mascara, whose expiration date was sometime in the mid-twenty-teens, hit the bin and I gave all those cross-stitch projects I was going to work on during my downtime to a local nursing home. I even trashed my Sunday worst; also known as my “holey sweats.” Still, I was restless. Needing something more cathartic, I looked around for other chains and anchors. What else held me back from being my brightest and shiniest self? The answer was in the palm of my hand. Looking down at my phone, my social media widgets beckoned. “Visit us!” they said. “Stay in touch with your far-flung friends!” I held my thumb down on the Facebook app and it began to wiggle and vibrate, along with all the other apps on my phone. The little “x” in the upper right-hand corner taunted me. “Delete me. I dare you.” How would I know that my friend, Jacey, ran another marathon? If I disconnected, would I ever see the riotous joy of the crowd at a concert I wasn’t attending? What memes would I miss? What cute animal photos? We live in a world of “Pics or it didn’t happen.” By deleting these connections, would I effectively, gulp, not be happening? Heart pounding, I hit the “x.” I deleted the app from my phone, along with all other social media apps. In the distance, I heard Mark Zuckerberg scream. New rule: For the next two months, social media would be utilized from my laptop and for business only. Breaking habits are as hard as creating new ones. For weeks, as I shuffled out of bed to begin my daily overconsumption of coffee, my hand would reach for the phone, the home screen lighting up the dark of the early morning and my thumb would tap for apps that were no longer there. I’d read the news while finishing coffee. Exercise after a glass of water. Head out to feed the horses and do farm chores (surely, you didn’t think writing was my only job) and run necessary errands, make the requisite repairs or, at least, make the requisite calls to put orders in for the requisite repairs. Throughout those early days, I grabbed my phone at small breaks, at a stoplight, in the parking lot of Tractor Supply. Each moment was fraught with anxious Fear of Missing Out. What was I missing? Then, things began to change. I felt lighter. I tackled certain tasks with a ferocity I haven’t felt since a time when I didn’t have crow’s feet or frown lines. I was doing more and stressing less and didn’t think about why. During one early Sunday morning walk, dressed in fresh, not holey activewear, it hit me: I’d purged the pressure that comes with obsessively oversharing on social media. Looking around, I saw my walking path, truly, for the first time in a long time through the lens of my own eyes and not through the filter of Instagram. Phone tucked away, there were no photo opportunities here. I was alone and this singular moment was mine and mine alone. No impulse compelled me to snap and share the rows of slender pines that provide me with a sheltered corridor of peaceful strolling, perfect for moody Instagram shots. #spookyforest Not a thought that the empty, country road back would be a grand stage for the latest TikTok dance. #lookatme A chorus of birds offered a concerto rarely found outside of Sharper Image sound machines only to me and I basked in it. #didn’tshareonFacebook As I write this, I have two weeks left in this exercise in restraint. I’d like to continue. Social media isn’t going anywhere. I don’t expect to dump it entirely and I’m not suggesting that anyone should. I mean, if I’m honest, I’ll confess that I dug two pairs of skinny jeans out of the Goodwill bag in the back seat of my truck and I’ll be keeping them, just like I’ll keep my Facebook and Instagram accounts. However, like the jeans, it will be a little while before I dive into them again. THE LIGHTER SIDE OF HEALTH CARE By Amy Gesell SPRING CLEANING: OUT GOES SOCIAL MEDIA
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