- What is taking up too much space in your head today, and what is one small thing you can drop or delegate?
This question seems like it’s asking about a to-do list, but I’m choosing to interpret it in more ethereal terms. Like the spider I saw descending from my ceiling this morning, for example, got me so deep in an existential thought pool that I figured I might drown if I didn’t get it out on the page today.
I have a couple of angles that I see the spider from. The first one is quicker to navigate, so I’ll start there: When I saw the spider drop down in front of my eyes, I was reminded of my favorite poem, called Allowables, by Nikki Giovanni:
This poem has made me cry. It’s so touching to me, it’s really a remarkable piece of writing. I’ve always taken it literally; I know some readers will read that and think it’s about war or something, but I felt deeply for the delicate spiders in the world after reading that poem. I did keep killing them, though.
It was like after a dentist’s visit, when they scared you into flossing for the first few days afterwards and then you fell back into old habits. I was welcoming to small, waify spiders at first; then I fell back into fear-based habits. Whenever I’d see a spider, I’d think of that poem, though. And I’d feel guilty.
This morning, the little wispy gymnast of an arachnid floated from high above, straight down onto the rug in my daughter’s room, a perfect ten landing. At least it had an audience to witness such an act. Much like the judges in a high-stakes gymnastics meet, I swiftly crushed the delicate beauty’s hopes, dreams, and, well, its life. I did say sorry right beforehand, and I explained my motive, as if that would absolve me of the guilt I tend towards. (Looking back on it, I do feel absolved–unfortunately for It, this is my house, and I cannot let even the smallest threat cohabitate with my baby.) After the murder, Allowables took second chair in my mind. My first thought was about witches.
We turn the corner now into my second angle: It is incredible how easily and effectively we can be influenced.
Today’s killing aside, my feelings about spiders have changed significantly recently. For the most part, I don’t look at them behind a fearful filter anymore–I see them as lucky, blessings, protectors, and a reminder that “life is built thread by thread through conscious intention.” And this is only because my algorithm brought me to Witches of Threads, on Threads.
I had only read a couple sentences in one day that mentioned spiders. Supposed witches, who could be bots, said spiders were good and I now therefore believe spiders to be good.
There’s a spider web on the hinge of my front door that I dare not get rid of because it supposedly acts as a filter and sifts out the bad juju before it gets into my home. There are two more intricate webs outside our house: One on the back of my husband’s car and one in our flower bed right where my head was just bobbing and weaving around last weekend when I was mulching. I look at these webs with awe and notice their beauty instead of wanting to destroy them. I try not to disturb the other webs in our landscaping when pulling weeds. I don’t bother the spider in our basement who has taken residency in our window nook. My husband and I even refer to him as “little buddy” and “cool guy.” All this because I was influenced online.
I’m happy about this change in me, so it’s not this specific instance that gives me pause. It’s all the other times I find myself scrolling on Instagram or Threads (never TikTok) and coming out the other side with a new opinion, a new concern, a new product I want, or a new “hack”. Most of the “information” I absorb is likely not good for me. It sometimes causes arguments between my husband and I–the fact that I’d get riled up over a fake headline or take sides on an issue when my algorithm is purposely hiding an entire hemisphere of facts. It’s not just my algorithm seeping into my daily thought patterns, but his, too. He notices when I’ve been online too long, and the noticing is mutual.
While I’m thankful for some of the tidbits I’ve gathered from doomscrolling, it’s overwhelmingly apparent to me that there’s an issue at hand: There are real-world, loving, strong, thoughtful relationships being affected by fake, online, polarizing, fear-mongering bullshit. None of this is news; we all know that doomscrolling is bad for us–just like we know alcohol, drugs, junk food, and unprotected sex are bad for us. At least there are meetings people can go to, with a real-world community, to heal that addicted part of themselves if those indulgences get out of control. Where are the “Social Mediaddiction” Anonymous groups? Where is there an opportunity for our community to seek support for this very real and harmful addiction?
Nobody is influence-proof anymore. If you have social media, you’re primed for jumping off the bridge if your favorite influencer told you to. I find this to be dangerous, an unnecessary evil. This is the nature of our society because it’s been engineered that way–we choose browsing social media day after day, but only because it’s designed to be addictive. Billions of dollars are spent to make sure our attention stays captured. It would seem like we don’t have any recourse now that society is so smart-phone dependent, but I want to fight that narrative.
The first step to breaking free from the chokehold is awareness. Notice when your thoughts start sounding foreign to you and actively change them to something else, preferably something positive and uplifting, like finding something to be grateful for.
The next step is harder, and that is to take action. This is where the addiction will overtake your resistance. My advice, which I need to take myself, would be to make a list of things to do when the desire to doomscroll pops up. I already have a time limit on my apps, and that doesn’t really do anything to stop my urges. A to-do list and a goal for the day, with deadlines, helps keep my phone out of my hands. When I’m taking a break, having things nearby that bring me real joy (a book, sketch pad, my laptop, etc.) help with keeping my attention elsewhere. But the last time I checked, I was logging 14 hours a week on IG and Threads. That’s a gut punch–to admit that “I don’t have time” really means “I’m wasting it on bingeing mental junk food.”
I get that sometimes we need a mental break to laugh at memes or watch some videos online. Like having too much junk food, though, I notice that I don’t feel any better after a scrolling session. I usually feel worse. Time passes at an unruly rate while my mind races about things I never wanted polluting my wavelength to begin with. What makes it so tough to quit is that there’s some content I really enjoy because it’s enlightening, uplifting, and encouraging. Like it’s Groundhog Day, I keep asking myself: Do I make that sacrifice?
The question really is, “When?” Intuitively I know I need a detox from the apps. We all do. When scrolling on DoorDash becomes a form of entertainment, that’s a sign to take some distance from the billion-dollar addiction machine. While I no longer do that (praise be), I still need to be checked into scrolling rehab someday. I just need someone to help me build it–preferably deep in the woods somewhere, with nothing but fresh air and Mother Earth to ground us.
In the meantime, I’ll do some research with the Witches of Threads. I have a bay leaf in my pantry that’s calling my name. Maybe that’ll bring my earthy, woodsy, campy detox facility to fruition. At this point, I wouldn’t mind living among the spiders.
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