Six months later…

I deleted Instagram from my phone in November before a month-long family vacation in New Zealand. It was revelatory on so many levels. In January, I announced I was leaving social media for good (no active posts or engagement) but haven't hit delete: I have a book coming out in 2026 and I know the publisher will need me to market it.

I also deleted all apps—except mail, messages, calendar and camera—from my phone, rendering my home screen vacant, so even when I reach for it, there's nothing clamoring for attention.

I have to actively choose to be on a website for bank transactions or to share notes on Substack, which means I have to be on a computer.

It adds pause. Gives me more agency and really makes me think how I am using my time and interacting with technology.

These days I paint and don't take photos of the process or make videos every single time. I go for walks without my phone or air pods.

I journal by hand with a fountain pen.

I text people sometimes but mostly write emails, post a daily feed on my website (to catalog my thoughts sans an audience), send newsletters to people that I have come to know as friends.

I feel unbound, not just to an algorithm, but to a way of living that encourages and celebrates the constant hustle.

And in all of this, I'm finding a sense of peace.