Have you tried going on a social media detox? I did. It would be more acceptable to say it was super easy for me doing an IG detox, but it was not. Even if I am a Gen Xer, not someone who’s had digital tools from the cradle. Today, I’m going to share with you an experiment I did to myself, cutting IG out of my life for thirty days, what challenges I went through and my overall experience.
First of all, why did I do an IG detox? Two things: I was avoiding a bunch of people, and I was influenced by Cal Newport’s content on digital minimalism. IG was never really my home base anyway; I had only started using the platform less than a year ago. Pretty soon, while I was researching the topic, YouTube’s algorithm nudged me along, and I logged out of IG. (I didn’t deactivate, because I still had posts scheduled in Meta Business Planner, and saying naman, di ba? Nagawa ko na, I might end up forgetting where I put what and where with my perimenopausal brain fog.)
The first day was tetchy. After I logged out I forgot to do something for my account, so I had to log back in several times and then log out again. Three days in, I felt strong withdrawal symptoms. I missed looking at the glossy pics. I missed the few messages I used to get. It was like withdrawing from a mild drug (caffeine): I found myself missing the hit, but it was manageable.
I also noticed I didn’t want to openly announce I was on an IG detox because of the experimental nature of the task. My hidden agenda, frankly, was to ask myself, “Who will miss me on IG if I’m gone for a while?” — and more importantly, “Who really cares?”
About ten days into my IG detox, I had this remarkable dream. From the moment I woke up, I knew it was connected to tuning into myself and tuning out from the excesses of social media. In the dream, I was standing at an intersection, with four directions stretching out in front of me.
The dream sent me a message. It echoed what Cal Newport said (and I paraphrase): when you get bored, that boredom is a natural urge. It’s a push to venture out and do things, not in the digital simulacrum of the world, but in the tangible outside world. For me, the intersection symbolized the crossroads of my own experiences. The shoutout from my unconscious was clear: “Hey you, you’re an okay, good-enough writer.” I also sensed the dream was tied to the beginning of my PhD journey.
I can treat CEU (my grad school) as just a place to complete requirements and earn the title Dr. Heger, but I can also make it wholly mine and meaningful. For years, I didn’t think I was deserving. But during these past days of the IG detox, it’s as if I’ve been possessed—keeping myself up to speed with current research practices. With less soc med (I keep FB, my home base), I’ve had the mental space to refocus.
Another unexpected benefit of my detox is being more open to spontaneity and adventure. Being Gen X, I didn’t funnel that time back into another platform. Instead, I went outside, experimented with transport routes, and ended up in Sta. Maria, Bulacan for a wedding—four hours from home, well outside my comfort zone.
In the midst of all this, I realized embracing boredom feels good, like listening to white noise that tunes you into your own voice rather than the loud bass music that isn’t your uproar.
By the twentieth day, I was feeling proud. My husband and I went to Cash & Carry, and instead of panicking over not being able to shop as much as before, I felt relieved. For years, I had associated buying a lot of groceries with happiness, but the main switch has flipped. All of a sudden, it feels more peaceful to only buy what you need. It tastes like freedom now. Getting obsessed with groceries makes less sense because I’m already chasing bigger dreams: my PhD studies, with all the research they demand (maraming research sa grad school), and dagdagan mo pa, the second book I’m writing.
The last lesson I’ve learned—and am still learning—is the value of slowing down. Not to be carried away by the tides of trends is a pleasure. Without the sturm und drang, the subtle, lightning-fast violence of IG pics haunting me, I feed my unconscious with blank space. Patience. As Ingrid Bergman once said: “You must train your intuition—you must trust the small voice inside you which tells you exactly what to say, what to decide.” And if anything, that intersection dream indicates that my unconscious does have a lot more to say; I could be more open to listening to it.
