Beyond the Scroll - My Truth

When a screen addiction takes it's toll

I’ve been hiding out too long here as well as on other online platforms. I’ve used it to numb and meanwhile life is passing by. They know what they are doing to keep us (me) hooked to our devices. Dopamine is that addictive.

I started here on Substack almost two years ago. My intent was to be more vulnerable with my writing and heal from a few things in my past. Ironically, I have become disconnected from the world beyond the screens.

I feel as if life is passing by, yet I can’t stop the scroll some days. Especially when it feels heavy inside of me and because of the world outside.

Maybe the world needs me, as much as I need them. That has never really occurred to me, at least not for a while. I feel if I stay small enough, hide inside and write, then I will be safe.

I won’t though. What has protected can also hurt over time and the walls get thicker.

I can blame the pandemic and my midlife transition for hiding. I can blame my own disconnect from church and community. I can blame my search for identity now that I am growing older.

When you hide out where it feels safe though, time will pass you by.

When you feel time has been erased, it’s a strange phenomenon.

My husband and I frequent a small brewery. One evening a year or two ago the passage of time hit me there. As we sat inside the cozy library sipping our beverages I noticed something. The customers were younger than us. A decade or two at least. Millennial aged parents chasing after children and some had their own parents with them as well. It occurred to me that we were no longer the younger parents with a young child. We were in fact, much closer to their own parent’s ages. The grandparents. The brewery was filled with a younger generation than my husband and me. Suddenly we were the older ones. I felt to my core that time had passed, and I didn’t know where I fit in anymore in life.

A few years ago, I went through a transformation. It was painful. Part of it was menopause and also fueled by a pandemic. When I came out of it, I was not and will never be the same person ever again. I felt pain and so many emotions I was repressing during that time. There was no way to escape it. At the same time, I was stuck in my head, and it eventually became a comforting haze when the pain subsided. Then isolation took it’s place. That is part of my why for writing here.

Who am I now?

Who am I now? I have been a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and a friend. I know I’m not the same person I was a few years ago though. There are parts of my life I have outgrown. That is painful and it is the most difficult part of moving ahead. Wondering where I fit in feels more isolating.

Life seems real outside of my head and when I look past the screens, but it also feels empty sometimes. It can look scary and unfamiliar in a way. This gray February landscape isn’t helping. Being out of my head and my cocoon means I have to face pain, my own mortality and other’s. Sometimes it’s too hard to take and I hide inside.

I realize I can’t hide anymore. Fear is keeping me locked inside myself. I know I have the key. I just don’t want to open the door, as much as I need to.

I won’t be here as much on Substack. It will take baby steps. It will take time limits. I feel powerless over this. My dopamine and internet addiction that have felt like my safe space, no longer is.

The ironic thing is, I started Substack to write and work through my feelings that crashed down around me. It gave me a place to do so with that part of me that woke up. I’m not sure of my game plan now. I will figure it out though.