Leaving social media behind was weird at first. If I had a thought I didn’t share, did I really have it? Could small life events simply come and go without the posting of photographic evidence? Were music, film, and TV able to be enjoyed without my tweeting out a critical review? I’d been in the habit of sharing, but now that I’m not, I don’t miss it. If I’m honest, I don’t find most other people’s immediate thoughts particularly interesting, so expecting them to care about mine is ridiculous.
The most liberating bit is not feeling pressure to have an opinion on absolutely everything. While I love learning, I’m in no position to become sufficiently informed on the multitude of topics I regularly encounter, and I’m happy to accept that there is often nuance, perspective, and other shades of grey to consider – and that I’m just not in a position to adopt a stance. It’s a relief not to be judged for ‘not caring’ about stuff I don’t have the resources to study.
Lastly, I don’t miss right-wing nonsense and the people who attempt to argue with it. It’s freeing to realise that neither hard facts nor shame will ever sway a Brexity Trumpkin. They are impervious to logic and decency, so it’s a waste of energy to engage. All that progressive people can do is outvote them. Watching stupid culture warriors spew bile on Twitter is simply throwing finite energy into the bin which is a silly, pointless thing to do.
Fig and Pen 