Remember mid-March 2020, at the start of COVID, before things got divisive, when we were all scared and facing something hard, but also strangely united? 

Right now, we also seem to be facing something hard and scary, but instead of one shared reality, there are millions of conflicting versions of what that hard and scary is. 

What if we came together to do something hard again? A common action we can all be part of.

Earlier this year, I had the joy of sitting on a tropical beach getting ready to snorkel. Two 20-something women arrived beside me, put on their gear, and began taking pictures on the shore, and then in the water. When I got out of the water, a mere 20 minutes later, they had already left. That was all they did it for, some pictures?

My family jokes that snorkeling is my favourite sport, a generous definition of sport, but true. I love how it pulls me fully into the moment. In the water, my safety depends on my presence, and I’m surrounded by creatures I have nothing in common with yet feel connected to. It’s meditative, almost spiritual, and a welcome break from the multitasking and performing of daily life. 

When I got out of the water, I too took out my phone. I took photos of my children splashing in the water, asked them to smile. My husband and I had made a deliberate move to turn off cellular service to avoid the roaming charges, but also with some hope we would be more present.

I had already stepped out of that moment of presence that I was living in the water. I had judged the two women for taking photos, but I wasn't really doing anything different. I thought about how I was missing the moment of my toddler feel the waves hit his feet and pull back, the ocean tugging at him in a different way, while I tried to create a different moment of that moment with my camera. 

I put away my phone and watched him. And after awhile it occurred to me that I kind of slipped into that same meditative, calm experience watching him that I did while snorkeling. 

I've tried many times to leave social media. I'll go days, sometimes weeks, without scrolling. But I inevitably always get pulled back in. For inspiration I can't afford, for announcements I don't need, for gossip I don't want to care about, for comparisons that make me feel worse and think mean thoughts. Does any of this make me a happier, kinder person? No. And I know I'm not alone.

Data says what is wrong with social media: excessive social media use can adversely affect mental well-being, leading to increased anxiety, depression, and loneliness. The curated perfection makes it harder to appreciate the imperfect beauty of our real lives and those who don't fit the mold of curated perfection.

So here's my idea:

For the month of February, the love month, let's collectively log off social media, and love what is right in front of us (cheesy, I know). 

Let's replace the time spent glued to our screens with simply being human. Will everything suddenly be butterflies and rainbows? Of course not, look at the world right now. But should we at least give it a try? I think so. If nothing else, it's a social experiment.

I know not everyone can disappear entirely, and this movement is not about shaming or punishing anyone. 

And what about the divisiveness, the unintended consequences, that just like with COVID, may come with this?  I hope we can find ways to make sure no one is harmed by this. 

So here are the simple (in theory, of course not in practice) "rules" (really just shared guidelines):

1. Temporarily delete the accounts on all of your Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, X, Snapchat, etc. accounts - whatever pulls you in. Deleting your account matters, when others are off, it may feel easier to stay off.
2. Keep non-scrolly platforms like Reddit, Substack, and YouTube if they are part of how you learn, read, or stay informed. 
3. And this is the big one: if you return to social media later, don't post anything from February. This isn't meant to become content later, it's meant to be life lived in the moment.

And now, let's imagine what may happen..

Maybe you’ll see a stranger reach for their phone, remember they’re doing this too, and you’ll actually talk. Maybe you’ll get hard news and, instead of distracting with scrolling, you’ll sit with the feelings. Maybe you’ll need a laugh and turn on a late‑night host instead of a meme account. Maybe you’ll read a book in a coffee shop and someone will comment on the title and you will fall madly in love. Maybe your aunt will come to dinner without a Facebook‑fueled rant, and you’ll talk about gardening instead, and maybe that is the small seed to world peace. 

Or maybe none of that will happen. Maybe it will be boring, inconvenient, uncomfortable, or even an absolute nightmare. But we won’t know unless we try. So, for the month of love, let's try.

See you in real life.

#LogOffForLove