What People Deserve
A place where the email can't find you.
Dear friend,
It took me twenty years—about how long I’ve had a cell phone—but I finally cracked the code. Did you know that you don’t have to reply to text messages right away? I didn’t.
The road to get here was long, and checkered with significant periods of feeling constantly accessible, and subsequent waves of shameful social burnout. But in June, a peer reached out about taking a walk and catching up. Though we aren’t close friends, we run in similar circles and admire each other’s public pursuits. Our conversations are generative.
I was pleased to hear from him, but for reasons I will intentionally leave out—lest it seem like I’m making excuses or explaining myself—I could not mentally incorporate him into the folds of my day.
A week passed, and then another. Every few days, I remembered him waiting in my inbox. I thought about responding, but physically I couldn’t muster it. I decided to experiment and wait until I was ready.
There is a different friend of mine who is exceptional at ignoring her text messages until she is ready. We are close friends, and sometimes weeks go by before I hear back from her. Early on in our friendship, she apologized profusely for one of her “disappearances.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a voice note. “I’ve just been off of my phone as much as possible, outside in nature, spending time with my family, and in the ocean. I’ve been taking care of myself, and sleeping a ton.”
As she spoke, I felt my cells tingle with sweet pleasure. My body relaxed on her behalf. I was delighted to hear what had replaced the given centerpiece of our lives: the phone and it’s communications.
That day, I realized I don’t want my friend—or anyone—to apologize for being away from their phone again. I don’t want someone to feel bad if the social load is overwhelming, or if I am currently one long-distance relationship too many. I have other friends who can love me in the interim.
I also realized that all of my friends are overachievers and over-givers, and that perhaps the kindest thing they can do for me, as a friend, is to put themselves first. It turns out that my love language is when my friends are MIA or OOO, even to me.
Nowadays, when periods of silence grow between my friend and I, I trust it isn't personal. Our friendship is secure. I know she is either working late into the night, or resting in a place—physical or psychological—where the email can’t find her. When I really need her attention, I sometimes follow up after a week with a simple “Woman!” though I play this card sparingly. Usually, I just give her space.
Last week, my second Instagram Detox cohort began. These groups are the most radical thing I do, and often the part of my practice that people seem to understand the least.
“People’s addiction to social media runs that deep? Really?” I’m asked frequently, as if it’s hard to believe.
“What does your screen time look like?” I respond.
On Tuesday’s meeting—the first of five—fifty people came. I was overjoyed. That’s fifty people who want something different for themselves. Fifty people hoping to reject the widespread complacency about living life on our phones. Some people are taking a vacation from Instagram. For others, it’s YouTube, Twitter, Facebook Marketplace, dating apps, email, or all of the above.
Together, we hypothesized about who we’d be if no one was looking, and how the feeling of being perceived impacts the way we relate to ourselves. We imagined Internet Utopias—perhaps a group like this is a tiny seed in the garden of change? We teased each other about a shared, hellbent tenacity for scrolling. “Even when I delete the fun apps, like Instagram or TikTok, I just start looking at Venmo, the weather, or even my grocery app,” said one member while rolling their eyes.
Compulsively searching for anything to open on a phone supports a thesis I’ve long held, which is that although it is shiny, Instagram is not actually the problem. Or, it’s not the only problem.
There’s a line in the new
book, The Dry Season, that stopped me in my tracks when I first heard it. I was walking around the lake, and immediately paused the audiobook in order to open my notes app and type it out. Speaking to addiction, Febos quotes her therapist: “You can’t get enough of a thing you don’t need,” she says, illustrating how the desire for something we don’t really need will always feel insatiable, because no need can actually be met.I’ve learned that people carry shame, not just about how much they use their phone, but about how impossible it feels to stop. “What is wrong with me?” they ask, tail between their legs. Febos’ book reminded me of the reassurance spiel I give at the beginning of every detox group I host.
I tell people that media apps aren’t like the other things we get addicted to, and they should be categorized separately. Cannabis and alcohol, for example, are tangible and can be measured. A person can understand the passing of time and the amount consumed via the length of a joint, or a glass going from full to empty. And while dispensaries and liquor stores make it easy to get more, more requires time, money, and leaving the house. Additionally, our bodies eventually tap out from the effects of mind-altering substances, or food. There is actually a limit to consumption, even if it means death.
I can’t say the same about Instagram. I don’t know where it begins or ends. When I use, I’m engaging with something infinite, and as a result, the passage of time is rendered meaningless. The app is also free, and I don’t have to go anywhere or talk to anyone to use it.
Perhaps long-term effects will reveal themselves later on, but for now I can use it for hours and not feel physically different—maybe just a little anxiety, shame, or not-enoughness, side effects that often inspire me to use it even more.
You can’t get enough of a thing you don’t need, and I wonder: Maybe you also can’t get enough of a thing that never ends. It’s like these apps are the cockroach of addictions. They just won’t die, and they’re designed that way.
On Tuesday, I lost count of how many people said “I hate my phone, I am so sick of it” during the meeting. The magic is in the repetition, and this is the arrow I follow when I think about what people deserve, and how I can orient my work towards it.
What I love most about my friends taking eons to text me back—emergencies and crash-outs aside—is the idea that even if they aren’t lounging in a shady patch of a Mexican beach with Mango juice dripping down their forearms, I know they’ve reclaimed agency over their own attention span and accessibility. For a brief spell, I am relieved to know that someone, somewhere, is the master over their device, and not the other way around.
I responded to my friend’s invitation for a walk sixteen days after he sent it. I acknowledged the gap in time, but did so without giving an excuse or explanation for why his text message had been left alone and one-sided.
“I’d love to see you. A bit of a delay on my end, but if your offer still stands…” I said.
An hour later, he replied. “Sounds great.”
Love,
Sky
If you want to join us on Tuesdays from 5-7 PM PST for the month of July, please sign up here. There are still four weeks left, and the first session was recorded. If you are struggling with your screen time, feeling alone, and losing hope that other people have the same quandaries, this is the place for you.
As you can tell, my friend
is unbelievably good at making me look hot, in double-denim no less! Joy did not ask me to do this, but I highly recommend everyone who lives in California consider hiring them to take your portrait before we all die. Leave something behind for the cockroaches to admire. This is their website.10/10 recommend
’ new book. To quote my pal Thora, “Febos is the patron saint of brave self examination, which never gets old.”I just finished Her Body and Other Parties by
. You know when you read something and you can just tell you’re reading the presence of greatness?I am rebuilding my Substack audience bit by bit, as I’ve had a bit of a lapse here due to prioritizing support groups, making prints, and painting. I have temporarily removed the paywall for three of my most popular, most loved, most-commented-on articles. If you like them, consider sharing them or becoming a paid subscriber to help me support this practice:
…on wildfires, evacuations, and dating men who only want one thing.
…on wanting romance but needing friendship, and wishing I could have all of my ex-boyfriends back.
…on not pretending that a menstrual cycle is easy.
One summer in my early twenties I worked for the park service in the middle of nowhere Washington. We lived on a government compound in the woods with no cell service. If you wanted to talk to someone or hang out you had to walk over and knock on their door. It was one of the best times of my life.
I get such a high when people text me back without apologizing for the delay!!!! If it’s urgent I will call. If it’s an emergency I will come find you lol.