Note 014
I’ve been thinking about social media lately.
And before anyone starts typing a comment, yes, I know the irony of writing this on the internet.
But stay with me.
Social media has become so normal, so automatic, that many of us don’t even realize how much it influences us.
What to wear.
What to buy.
What to think.
What to say.
What we’re supposed to be interested in this week.
Sometimes I scroll and think, “How is everybody wearing the same outfit, using the same phrases, making the same videos, and recommending the same products?”
At some point, being influenced became a full-time job.
There’s a saying that goes:
“An influencer could sell ice to someone living in an igloo.”
And honestly?
That’s not much of an exaggeration anymore.
People buy things they weren’t looking for.
Need things they didn’t know existed.
And suddenly convince themselves that their life won’t be complete without the latest water bottle, skin care product, planner, tumbler, gadget, or matching lounge set.
Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to remember why I opened the app in the first place.
But the thing that concerns me most isn’t what we’re buying.
It’s what we’re losing.
The ability to sit with our own thoughts.
To form our own opinions.
To decide what we actually like.
To hear our own voice before hearing everyone else’s.
That’s why a quote I recently heard stopped me in my tracks:
“Isolation is restoration.”
Now before you picture me living alone in a cabin somewhere in the woods, that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about intentional solitude.
Time set aside to simply be with yourself.
No scrolling.
No notifications.
No podcasts.
No television.
No endless opinions from strangers.
Just you.
Your thoughts.
Your feelings.
Your own company.
And if that idea makes you uncomfortable, that might be a sign you need it most.
As a lifelong overthinker, I actually crave those moments.
I need them.
I enjoy them.
Some people see sitting alone in a room as boring.
I see it as an adventure.
Honey, I can daydream myself onto a whole vacation.
Give me thirty quiet minutes and I’ll mentally spend three days in Hawaii.
I’ll have the ocean breeze.
The beach chair.
The sunset.
The fruity drink.
By the time I come out of that room, you’d think I just got off the plane.
That’s the beauty of stillness.
When you slow down long enough, you reconnect with yourself.
You remember what you think.
What you believe.
What matters to you.
You stop consuming and start processing.
You stop reacting and start reflecting.
And in a world that constantly demands your attention, that might be one of the healthiest things you can do.
The older I get, the more I realize that solitude isn’t loneliness.
It’s maintenance.
It’s care.
It’s restoration.
A Note for Today
Spend enough time with yourself that you recognize your own voice before the world’s.
A Little Something To Think About:
What’s one account you could unfollow today that no longer brings you peace, joy, or encouragement?
Until the next note,
Your Resident Overthinker