✨ Reclaiming My Attention Span

A soft girl’s guide to getting quiet in a world that never shuts up

I’m absolutely not going to be one of those people who complains about how much time people spend on their phones.

I have a special but probably not unique relationship with tech and the internet, especially because of a very lonely childhood. Online spaces were my first real sense of connection. I’ve built entire friendships (some of my most meaningful ones) through screens and text boxes. And I don’t think that’s sad or shameful. If anything, I think it’s kind of beautiful.

The internet has been my playground for as long as I can remember. I don’t feel bad for cherishing the community, creativity, and connection I’ve found here over the past two decades.

That said… I do get tired.
Tired of scrolling past my cousin’s rage-inducing political takes.
Tired of the misinformation, the bad-faith arguments, the algorithm pushing outrage.
Tired of the energy it takes to hold onto facts while other people double down on vibes and conspiracy headlines.

We all live in our own confirmation bubbles online—that’s nothing new. But when you’re in one where people value research, nuance, and critical thought, it’s jarring to suddenly be reminded that there are folks who genuinely think reading a headline counts as “being informed.” Or worse, that ChatGPT is a replacement for actual research.

Sometimes, I just need to log off. Not out of judgment or shame, but out of self-preservation.

📵 The Scroll Trap

I start and end my day scrolling.
I know I do it.
I know a lot of people do it.

This isn’t about shame, it’s just a moment of acknowledgement.
I have screen time limits set on most of my social media apps that I routinely ignore. Not because I don’t care, but because I’m not ready to stop. They’re more like little reminders that I’ve been mindlessly scrolling for longer than I thought—like a digital nudge to come back to earth.

I haven’t checked my full screen time analytics in a while. And honestly? Part of me is actually afraid to. I think seeing the actual number would be a little jarring. Not because I’m a bad person, but because I know how much of that time was spent just numbing out.

And the worst part? I don’t even think I’m getting anything out of it after a certain point.
Sure, the first few TikToks or Reels hit me with some much-needed dopamine. A funny meme, a quick news update, a book rec I might save and forget about. But after that? It’s just ads. Endless reposts. Bad audio rips of better content. And suddenly, I’m not even entertained. I’m just avoiding.

Avoiding eye contact at the grocery store. Avoiding awkward silences in waiting rooms. Avoiding my own thoughts when they’re too loud or too empty.

Sometimes I’ll be fully immersed in something—deep in work, or in a project I care about—and my brain will still be like, “Hey, you know what would be really cool right now? Let’s look at your tiny glowing screen for no reason at all.”

It’s wild. And honestly, a little sad.
Not because I’m doing something wrong.
But because I know I miss something softer underneath it all.

🕯️ What I’m Doing Instead

I haven’t thrown my phone into the ocean or deleted all my apps or anything dramatic… at least not recently.

But I have been trying to create a little more space between me and the scroll. And for me, that starts with small, intentional choices.

I set my phone to Do Not Disturb with notifications still on for the few people who might actually need to reach me (I’m not a complete monster). The itch to check is still there, especially at first. But without the constant buzz buzz of notifications, that urgency fades. The impulses come less frequently. The silence starts to feel more natural.

Sometimes I leave my phone charging in another room while I do basic things—cleaning, folding laundry, making dinner, watering the plants. Even just that small separation helps. I remember what it feels like to be in my day, not just observing it through a screen.

I’ve started reading physical books again. The kind with pages. The kind that don’t glow.

I listen to lo-fi beats when I’m journaling or stretching.
I look out my bedroom window and watch the tree outside sway in the breeze.
And I remind myself—this is life too.

Even in an apartment, even surrounded by concrete and to-do lists and late-night email replies, there’s beauty. There’s movement. There’s something worth looking at that isn’t filtered or curated or asking me to “like” it.

💡 Creating a Softer Rhythm

Letting go of hyperfocus has been harder than I thought.

Sometimes I catch myself and my partner lying in bed, half-cuddling, each of us just blankly staring at our screens. And sometimes that’s fine—it’s decompressing, it’s quiet, it’s low-effort.
But other times, I’ll look up and think, “Wow… what the fuck are we even doing right now?”

Those moments of clarity feel important.
Not dramatic. Just honest.

Lately, we’ve been trying to take more intentional time together—little moments where we both put our phones down and actually connect. Nothing fancy. Just being present in the same place at the same time, on purpose.

And when I’m alone, I’ve started asking myself more often:
“Do I really need to take my phone out right now?”
Not to guilt myself—but to pause. To check in. To notice the impulse before I follow it.

That tiny moment of reflection has helped more than I expected.
It doesn’t always stop me—but it softens the habit.
And sometimes, that’s enough.

🌙 Logging Off Without Losing Myself

The internet has always been a little sacred to me.
It gave me connection when I needed it most.
It gave me friendship, creativity, a voice.
And I’m not going to pretend that doesn’t still matter.

But just because something is important doesn’t mean it has to consume me.
I can still love what the internet has given me without being swallowed by it.
I can step away without erasing the parts of myself that were shaped online.

This isn’t about rejecting technology. It’s about returning to me.
The quiet version.
The one that looks out the window.
The one that reads books.
The one that breathes before she reacts.

This week’s mantra:

“I am allowed to take my attention back—one small moment at a time.”