Stepping Back: A Temporary Digital Detox

Well, here we are. After an hour and a half walk around town last night—with a friend on Discord, no less, which feels rather ironic given what I'm about to say—I've come to a decision that probably shouldn't surprise anyone who knows me well enough to recognise the patterns.

I'm stepping back from the internet for a bit. Not entirely, mind you. I'll still be at the AT Protocol talk tomorrow because, honestly, I wouldn't miss that for the world. And my Wednesday D&D sessions as Cailean remain sacred—some traditions are worth preserving, even in the midst of a digital detox.

But otherwise? I'm taking a proper break from the endless scroll, the constant notifications, the urge to document every fleeting thought that crosses my mind. As much as I love this corner of the internet I've built, and as grateful as I am for the connections I've made here, I need to admit something: my anxiety has gone full neurotic.

The Reality Check

Walking under the moonlight last night—and yes, there's something to be said for actual moonlight rather than just posting about moon phases —I had one of those conversations that cuts through all the noise. My friend listened while I vented, properly vented, about things I'd been carrying around without even realising their weight. It's remarkable how therapeutic it can be to just... talk. Without character limits, without worrying about engagement metrics, without the performance aspect that social media inevitably brings, even when we don't intend it.

I'm as addicted as any other member of Gen Z, probably more so given how deeply I've integrated myself into the technical side of things. Between running my own infrastructure, building bots, tinkering with AT Protocol implementations, and maintaining multiple feeds and projects—it's become less of a hobby and more of a compulsion.

It likely doesn't help that I've been chained to my desk, metaphorically speaking, for the last two months. It will be a repeat of 2023 if i continue. I do not want that, quite frankly. I guess my hypervigilance has some benefits.

The Looming Reality

September is approaching, and with it, another year of college. I'd quite like to face that transition without the constant background hum of digital anxiety, without the reflexive need to check notifications every few minutes, without the mental fog that comes from information overload. Without the constant nagging voice that I'm misstepping socially, on eggshells as it were.

I need to figure out who I am when I'm not performing for an algorithm, not optimising for engagement, not constantly documenting my thoughts for public consumption. Not performing. There's a difference between authenticity and perpetual self-broadcast, and I think I've lost track of where that line sits.

What This Means

This isn't a dramatic farewell or a condemnation of digital spaces—quite the opposite. The communities I've found here have been genuinely life-changing, and the technical possibilities of the AT Protocol continue to fascinate me. This is just recognition that even good things can become overwhelming when they're constant.

I'll be back, probably sooner than I should be, knowing myself. But for now, I'm going to try rediscovering what it feels like to be bored without immediately reaching for my phone, to have thoughts without immediately crafting them into posts, to exist without documenting the existence.

The projects will keep running, the repositories will stay public, and my PDS will remain operational. But the person behind all of it is going to try remembering what the moon looks like when you're not thinking about whether it would make a good status update.

Thank you for reading, for following, for engaging with my various digital rambles over the past year. It's been genuinely wonderful, even when it's been too much.

See you on the other side of this detox. Probably with a blog post about what I learned, knowing my patterns.

Until then, touch some grass for me. Preferably under actual moonlight.