Flipping the Bird

Leaving Twitter changed how I interact online...for the better

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Sometime last year, I read the book Stolen Focus by Johann Hari. I was trying to figure out why my attention span was so terrible, and also trying to figure out if my overuse of social media had something to do with it. There is a prevailing belief among many that our decreasing attention spans are a form of ADHD (they are not), but it is something that is affecting just about everyone. The main takeaway from the book that stuck with me was that social media is designed to be addictive, and one of the most effective ways to keep us engaged is to keep us angry. The algorithms value rage over community. It’s basically a dopamine slot machine. It keeps you playing, but the house always wins. No human - ADHD or not - is immune to this design. If you are prone to addictive or compulsive behavior, it can easily turn toxic.

I started using Twitter (still never calling it X!) in 2009. Over the course of more than a decade, I made friends and professional connections that were invaluable. It was a great place to get information, often in real time, and a terrific way to amplify causes you care about. I bonded with fellow theater makers and creatives, and the short form writing was something my ADHD brain liked a whole lot. I got career opportunities that had been completely out of reach before. Once in a while, I’d even have a friendly interaction with a favorite celebrity. When it was fun, it was riotously fun. When it was bad, it was a dumpster fire of epic proportions.

I started to worry about my Twitter usage as far back as 2015, but it was like the proverbial frog in the pot of boiling water, and by 2020 I was questioning what the hell I was still doing there. Because of lockdown boredom, the election, and January 6th, I stayed glued. I also started to get into more frequent arguments with people, which I realize now was chasing dopamine, but my rejection sensitivity made it difficult to manage emotionally. I made a ton of friends, but I also experienced a lot of harassment (especially during the 2016 election), and it started to take a toll on me.

After the fall of Roe in the summer of 2022, I plummeted into a months long despair, as my ADHD symptoms worsened. At this time last year, I was borderline suicidal, and terrified that I had finally gone insane and would never recover. My posts were sometimes erratic, hostile, and confrontational. While hostility is a normal response to having your rights taken away, I found myself projecting my anger and resentment outward in a way that wasn’t healthy, or in my nature. My hotheadedness is often just plain old emotional dysregulation. I am naturally feisty, but I am not mean or argumentative in my real life interactions. I was consumed by rage and fear.

A lot had to happen for me to get out of the space I was in. I hit my personal rock bottom, in so many ways. With the help of my mental health professionals, family, and friends, I finally got the courage to face it all head on. Many changes needed to be made, and while my diagnosis was a big piece of the puzzle, it wasn’t the whole picture. I had to take a very honest look at myself. It wasn’t fun, but it was necessary. I recognize that ADHD, my genetics, and my family history make me prone to addictive behaviors, and it’s been hard, painful work to accept that.

I was still using Twitter, but I was more mindful about it. I had to accept that as a painfully sensitive human being who tends to hyperfixate and obsess, being glued to Twitter all the time was detrimental to my mental health and impeded my ability to handle the onslaught of news (much of which was bad). ADHD makes it more difficult to filter information, which can lead to overwhelm. Regardless, it gave me dopamine, and I think it became a form of self medicating. I also started to have serious doubts that my social media engagement was going to help to move the political needle. In fact, I think I might have been part of the problem. I didn’t like the person I was putting forward on social media. I suspect plenty of others didn’t, either.

A few months after I was diagnosed, I went on a much needed vacation. In an effort to really BE on vacation, I deleted the Twitter app from my phone. During that trip, I felt so calm, and I wanted to continue that sense of calm when I got home. I never reinstalled the app, I don’t post anymore, I have deleted most of my tweets, and I no longer look at it on a regular basis. While I definitely miss some of the people I interacted with, it has been an absolute godsend for my mental health.

I still care about what’s going on in the world, deeply so. The fact of the matter is that unless you are famous or have a ton of followers, the algorithm is basically showing the same group of people your posts or tweets, and most of the people I wind up fighting with believe in 90% of what I believe. Sometimes I feel like I played right into the hands of the people who have a vested interest in taking away whatever democratic processes we have left. I think about that a lot.

Elon Musk - who bought Twitter and proceeded to completely wreck it - is a vile human being. When he took over, I felt defiant at first. Like how dare this man kick me out of this community? We were here first. In the end, it’s just not where I wanted to plant my flag. His antisemitism, xenophobia, racism, transphobia, and plain old imcompetence is certainly enough reason for me to never return. It also occurred to me that I was giving my writing and my insights away for free, just to put more money in his pocket.

I still use Facebook and Instagram, as it is a way I keep in touch with people, but I am a lot more mindful about how I use it. Mark Zuckerberg is also not my favorite human, and I have complicated feelings about it, but as long as I am not using it compulsively, I think it’s okay for the moment.

I am no longer self medicating my ADHD through social media posting. It doesn’t mean I don’t still go down a rabbit hole once in a while, but I do catch myself and try to stop. I am also at a point where I do not need external validation in the same way. I know who I am, I know where I stand, and I know what my values are. I am focusing on being good to the people in my life and using my voice where it can be useful.

I do not want to fight with anyone - especially my friends, even when we disagree. I also have a lot more space in my brain for my own creative work. I respond more slowly. I take a little longer to digest information and form an opinion. I don’t feel like I have to respond to every single thing that pops up on my feed, and the things I DO want to respond to take me just a little bit longer. I am less reactionary, and I feel a lot less helpless.

I do think social media can be a powerful political tool, and in capable hands it can do remarkable things. On the other side, we have also seen how destructive it can be. We have a long, painful fight ahead of us, on many fronts. If you think your social media platform of choice is threatening your sanity, it is okay to opt out of that particular platform. We need to be able to show up for our offline communities, too. Many people say that protecting your mental health is selfish, privileged, and an abdication of your responsibility as a citizen. I have a lot of thoughts about this, but for now I’ll simply say that I disagree.

After the isolation of the pandemic, I crave community more than ever. I have finally started to be more social, and slowly but surely I am getting back to seeing theater and working on new projects. The balance will always be difficult, and I am sure that I’ll still struggle from time to time. I have always been a part of online communities - hell, a Tori Amos message board is where I met some of my best friends! - and will continue to be. Just not the bird one.