It’s not until you get away from dysfunction that you realise how bad it was. I wouldn’t say I was addicted to Twitter, but I used it a lot. In the beginning, it was a bit of fun, marvelling at how amusing some people could be with just a few words. Then came the commiserations. The decent, sane users were horrified by the EU vote and desperate to avert disaster. When it became apparent we were all going over the cliff, the anger set in, and it’s done nothing but intensify since.
Thing is, I’m not an angry person, but I was an absolute rage monster on Twitter. It had become a game – seeing how far I could go without tripping over libel laws, using language I’d never use around even my closest friends, and generally behaving in a way that was out of character for me. I’d log on to Twitter and within minutes become upset by something. I’d then share it with the intent of passing that upset along to others. When you think about it, that’s a horrible thing to do to other people. So I’ve stopped.
My account is locked, my content is deleted, and my general disposition has improved immensely. I’m finding joy in small places, feeling less lethargic, and my attention span is improving. I’m working in my garden, attempting to befriend a blackbird, drinking lots of tea, and reading. I’m losing the desire to constantly share every thought in my head with strangers and I’ve begun writing, studying and learning again.
To state how much I’ve changed in such a short amount of time shines an unflattering light on my previous behaviour and mind set. It’s embarrassing to have sunk that much time and energy into something so unproductive, but it’s wonderful not to feel hyper aware of unnecessary negativity. I don’t miss that one bit.