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I caught myself the other day telling someone I don’t post much on social media because I don’t really like it.
OK, that’s true—I don’t do much on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter or anywhere else. And I don’t love what it does for me—as an addict, I would notice myself counting likes and retweets and positive comments and getting a little out of whack relying upon the feedback to make myself feel better.
But there’s some bullshit wrapped up in that stance, too. Because if I were being 100 percent honest, I would make sure to add the disclaimer that I don’t post very often, but I do watch hours and hours of nonsense on there every week. And I get sucked into reading lots of political and sports arguments that I don’t directly participate in.
And when I am being really honest about social media, I am able to admit that my consumption of it isn’t really helpful. Does it hurt me? I don’t know if I’d go that far. But I do think I end up consuming mostly brain rot, useless crap that may be fine for mindless stimulation—and not much else.
One area that I definitely see an impact on is my impulsivity. I mostly do a good job these days of not doing every idiotic idea that pops into my head. But I do find that social media is very good at targeting the parts of my brain—all of our brains, really—that can lead to impulsive thoughts. I can’t tell you how many weird little items I buy online, and my wife goes, “Let me guess—you saw a sponsored reel on Instagram and bought this cup that makes a loud noise when you blow into it from there?” (That is an actual example, by the way. I have something called a Loud Cup that is hilarious but scares the life out of my cats every time I honk it.)
I also have found that my attention span is a little shorter than it used to be. I don’t entirely blame social media… but I know it ain’t helping. It’s not helping my attempts to avoid wasting time with nonsense, either—our iPhone algorithms know us better than we know ourselves, so trying to avoid stuff is very hard. I found myself watching a few old clips from the show Jackass before I realized that I had better things to be doing than watching a guy get hit in the groin by a paintball—which I had seen many times before. And yet, the next 10 times I got on Facebook or Instagram, guess what was waiting for me? More Jackass clips to waste the day away.
I’d love to tell you that I have now deleted a bunch of apps from my phone. But I haven’t. I think there is an amount of nonsense social media stuff that is just fun entertainment, and I am trying to figure that out. I’d say right now my consumption is above where I’ll ultimately land. But it’s not a huge problem, so for now, cue up those Jackass videos, and hopefully I won’t need to go to rehab for being addicted to Johnny Knoxville.
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
A true story: I recently attended an AA picnic in my home town. We were joking and having a good time, when the five-year-old daughter of a fellow home-group member won a prize in the sack race. “That’s mine!” I told her playfully. “Give it here.”
“I’ll tell my Mommy,” she replied, clutching it to her chest.
“I don’t care,” I said, tugging at it. “I want it.”
“I’ll tell my Daddy,” she threatened.
“I don’t care. I want it,” I replied.
“Who’s your sponsor?” she shot back. She’d won our little battle.
(Credit: AA Grapevine, November 2000, by Joe)
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