Delete, Decaf, DGAF
Ditching the 'gram, hanging up hangxiety, and turning down the volume. Here's how I'm pursuing peace as a highly-sensitive person.
Post-brain surgery, my tolerance to just about everything lowered: alcohol, caffeine, medications, bullshit. It took a few months for me to notice — but yes, I feel different.
I had already been leaning into different ways of slowing down for the past year — shrinking my social circle, saying yes to less, and getting off my phone. But the beginning of this year was calling me to go deeper through larger lifestyle and mental shifts than ever before.
I’m currently navigating finalizing our destination wedding, a move from Florida to Hawaii, getting off SSRIs I’ve been on for six years, and trying medications for ADHD created the perfect storm of overwhelm, one I can’t think or organize my way out of. So here I am.
Solidifying my steady and peaceful foundation from which to live and manage chaos became the goal, a twist downward of the volume knob of my mind the way.
Pursuing peace requires taking a strict look inwards, at what I am consuming with all five senses. Alcohol, caffeine, social media… they’ve all been lowered on my list of consumables in order to make space for silence, quiet contemplation, meaningful connection, and purposeful action. So this is what life looks like lately…
DELETE
Hey Aves, I noticed you’ve been quiet on insta lately so I just wanted to check in. I miss you and I love you!
It’s true. I have been quiet on Instagram. In fact, downright silent since February 7, the day I deleted the app off my phone on a whim, the day that also happened to give me the three-day hangover that finally tipped me over the edge into “California Sobriety”.
There was nothing all too particularly meaningful about February 7th, other than it now marks the catalyst, the beginning of a somewhat wildly different way of living for me. In actuality, it was a day of bar golf with a lively group of women, most of whom I was meeting for the very first time. I had been hermit-crabbing my way through winter and deciding I needed the social interaction, I leaned into the theme hard, with a golf skirt on and bare legs in the 50-degree rainy weather. I imbibed in the scorecard beverages, kicking it off with a White Claw before moving on to double margaritas with sugary house-made sours, and creamy rum and whiskey blended into an almost cake-tasting shot. Baskets of fried mess at Hooters.
It was a blast — until I was puking in bar #5’s parking lot at 7:30 pm, fumbling with calling an Uber, and trying not to get sick in said Uber on my ride home. The night was rough, the next day was the roughest.
Hangxiety has a way of kicking you once you’re already down and defenseless, making you question your memories of a laughter-filled night with new friends, convincing you you made the biggest fool of yourself and no one will ever invite you out again. Oh and even your dog is mad at you.
What the fkk?! (I know I’m not alone in this.)
Instagram wasn’t helping my hangxiety. (I wax poetic about my insta-issues and the fact I never see who I want to see over on this post here, so I’ll save y’all from having to sit through that again.) But basically, the world was getting too loud and I am on a quest for quiet. So I smoked a joint, deleted the social media app off my phone, turned off the TV, and slipped into a delicious afternoon-long nap on the couch.
Peace.
I didn’t plan this to be some big symbolic break or triumphant holier-than-thou exodus off the socials. I simply found myself free from the desire to get back on. There may be the occasional return (like sharing I was on a podcast! before deleting the app once again), but for now — I like it this way. I carry my book with me to read while I wait or simply stare off into the distance, eyes unfocused, happy to be free from the bright stimulating images of the lives others wished they lived.
It’s nice to know the world carries on without me checking in on it constantly.
Dear friends, expect more phone calls, beach walks, and cards in the mail. Intentional offline connection is a goal of mine, something I too need to work on more.
DECAF
I used to think “anxious” was my state of living. It was normal to constantly feel the clutch of cat claws at my chest. And despite the infinite messages out there reminding me of caffeine’s impact, I ignored the notion maybe my daily cups and cans were not helping me on my journey of chasing calm. Post-brain surgery, I also noticed just how sensitive I really was — my mornings were spent in a jittery flurry before crash landing into afternoon irritability.
So I quit. Ish.
Decaf Americanos, iced matcha tea with a splash of oat milk, the occasional weekend cold brew treat picked up from my favorite Panama City Coffee truck — it’s enough for now. And I feel so much better.
DGAF
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson remains one of my favorite and most-recommended self-development books of all time. I purchased a hard copy last month (my Kindle version would be considered “well-loved” at this point) so I could re-read armed with a highlighter and pen.
If September taught me anything, it’s to audit the fkks I give — because many of those fkks are given to things not worth giving a fkk about at all. Our days are fraught with worry, with stressors far beyond our control. And yet many of us wake up to battle god and the universe for the reigns daily.
The book is an insightful guide to reexamining your values and priorities so you can build your lifestyle accordingly. So you can choose where you will expend your energy, your time, your thoughts, your fkks — no matter what chaos is happening around you that you have no control over.
For me lately, it’s little things like not taking feedback on a work project personally, forgiving the driver who cut me off, and letting a disagreement cool rather than arguing my way to being right. It’s also about the little things that become bigger things — like nurturing my relationships with more casual potluck game nights and chat around the firepit nights, less take-the-whole-day-to-prepare dinner parties and loud nights out. Tossing sticks for Ghost at the beach with Josh. Weekly morning beach walks with a dear friend.
It’s taking care of my body with the realization I am still recovering. It’s Pilates and more reading than TV and lounging in the bathtub and doing a cold plunge in the morning.
Simplicity. Stripping the week down to what matters — good work, solid rest, purposeful connection. Lowering the volume, lessening the intensity.
And exhale.