Inspired by some pals I admire, I took a break from social media over the past few weeks. I deleted Facebook and Instagram from my phone shortly after Christmas and it’s been…well, I can’t call it eye-opening, because I don’t think I’m surprised by anything, but it sure has been *something*.

The first (embarrassing) thing was that I realized my thumbs had essentially established muscle memory to open up those apps as soon as I touched my phone and start mindlessly scrolling. It took more days than I’d care to count before I stopped automatically reaching for those apps, but I’m hoping I’ll keep it in mind going forward and not fall back into that sort of habit.

I found myself filling my time in different ways, though to be clear, I don’t think they qualify as more “mindful” activities. (I’ve been playing a LOT of Stardew Valley and Baldur’s Gate 3.) When I have just a few minutes, I still seek something to fill the space, whether its the NY Times Games or some very simple color sorting/match app. I tried replacing that with the reading app on my phone, but reading in small bursts has never been my jam–I’m far more likely to start a book and then stay up until 1 AM to finish it.

I HAVE noticed a shift in my brain and my heart– I have been generally happier without all the social media scrolling, and my attention span/focus has improved  (I can JUST watch TV without also doing 7 other things). I’ve still been sharing about my life with people, I’ve just been far more intentional about it. Instead of checking to see who has liked or commented on my posts or viewed or loved my stories, I’m engaging in  genuine conversations with the friends I’ve texted or called. And THAT feels really good.

I’ve also noticed less anger and outrage. I’ve kept up with the news, but not doom scrolling through several iterations of the same information has definitely allowed me to process things in a calmer way. I also feel like I have a better grasp on the concept (fact?) that other people’s opinions and what they choose to do with their own lives truly does not have an impact on me or what happens in my life (aside from, you know, the people in charge of our government). I have surrounded myself with people I love and admire, people who make me laugh and listen to me vent, people who play board games and DND with me, people who know I prefer the little fork and the big wine glass, people who I never worry are mad at me because I know they wouldn’t hesitate to tell me if they were. I don’t need to get worked up over the opinion or choices of people who aren’t part of my life in that way, and it’s okay to feel however I feel about things, and then to simply move on.

I do, however, miss the connection to all the awesome people who aren’t part of that immediate circle, and it’s ultimately what’s bringing me back. I love seeing what’s happening in other circles, in other friends and families’ lives, and I love the conversations that can spark with someone I might not be regularly engaging with. I miss giving and getting recommendations for books or shows or products, and I *really* miss sharing hilarious memes and reels (shout out to everyone who has been sending me things all along–I’m looking forward to going through what will be a very curated feed in my Instagram messages!). It’s easy to default to seeing social media as “bad”, but there is so much GOOD buried in there, too.

I’m sharing all of this because I’m also trying to do more things that make me happy without fear of judgement. (Yes, I’ve also been reading The Let Them Theory and really enjoying it.) I often hesitate to write or share something for fear that people will think I’m bragging, or they’ll think it’s stupid, or pointless, or god forbid something I write makes somebody *mad* at me.  My chest is tightening even as I type because I’m just *thinking* about posting this and people reading it and all of those things happening. BUT (thanks, self-help book!), I like reflecting on my life and the world around me, I LIKE sharing it with others, I like when people read what I write. Maybe my best friends will tell me they read it, maybe I’m writing into a void and it doesn’t matter,  or maybe a few people will see themselves in something I’ve written and they’ll feel less alone, and maybe someone will tell me that and then we’ll all feel something good. Whatever the case may be, I’m already feeling better for having written my thoughts down, and I’m proud of that.

So I’m redownloading my social media while attempting to stay in better control, and I’m looking forward to seeing what I’ve missed over the past 3 weeks. I’m looking forward to sharing pictures of dice and cats and books and beers and friends and, of course, Eloise, with my little corner of of the world, and I’m hoping to continue to engage in those authentic conversations about things I love with friends far and wide. And, for some self-accountability, I’ll include that I’m also hoping to write more and share more of that writing, and to keep up the other good habits I’ve started as well. While I’m not a resolutions kind of gal, I do like feeling better and happier in life (duh), and I really like sharing that happiness with others and spreading some joy wherever I can.

On Saturday, a nice Mennonite woman came in with her family and asked if I had a book called “Mistress Pat” by Lucy Maud Montgomery.  My love for the author (and the two cups of coffee I’d already consumed) prompted me to barrage her with recommendations and questions about what they’d already read, how much they loved her, and details about my own relationship with her books. The poor woman nodded along with a tight smile, asked me to put the book on hold, and then hurried along her way.

While I felt a little abashed and subdued afterwards, I also felt like I just couldn’t help myself.  It is so rare to find people who haven’t read L.M. Montgomery’s books and who actually want to.  A good friend and I had a discussion recently about what a tragedy it is that the new generation of readers are passing these books by. We read them voraciously as middle schoolers and high schoolers (my copy of Emily of New Moon looks like it was beat up by a bear from all my rereads), yet today’s kids at the library take one look at the first few pages and put it back on the shelf.

So what gives? Has Anne with an E somehow lost her charm? I find that very hard to believe. And yet, there she sits on the library shelves with hardly a checkout to her name. The families that do check her out tend to be Mennonites, which leads me to believe that the real issue is an overwhelming access to technology.

When I read Anne (and Emily, Pat, Marigold, Story Girl etc.) I didn’t feel disconnected from the world that they lived in. I still lived in a world with rotary phones and 30 channels on the TV–the internet was basically unknown, and when we did get it, it came on a CD. I wrote regularly in a journal, and I still wrote essays for school out by hand. Anne’s life, though very different from my own, was not the light-years away that it is to today’s culture and society.

Kids are already struggling with waning attention spans–I think the idea of reading about a girl who fills hours of boredom by making up names and stories for her ‘friends’ (the trees and White Way) just can’t appeal to them. It doesn’t mean I don’t try–it just means I’ve stopped being surprised when girls wrinkle up their noses and shake their heads.

On the bright side, the love of Anne, and for me, Emily, is something that will always offer a special bond for women my generation and older. There are so many things in my life that have been influenced by her writings.  A favorite story is from a scary time at the hospital, when a wonderful young Doctor stayed with me through a lot of pain, and admitted that she was giving me extra attention because she felt like I was a kindred spirit.  Of course we promptly launched into an “OH YOU’VE READ ANNE” conversation, which helped distract me from what was happening.

Anne has always been a part of my life, literally from the very beginning. My mother named me after Mrs. Rachel Lynde (though she’ll be quick to point out that it was only because she liked the way the name sounded, not because she loved her character).  When I first read Anne, I was a little offended when I met Mrs. Rachel Lynde because of her busybody personality and her holier-than-thou attitude.  It took a few more chapters and books and rereadings over the years for me to truly understand what an incredible person Rachel Lynde was, and even though Mom continues to insist that I wasn’t named for her as a character, I’ve come to realize that I wouldn’t mind if she did.

My love of Montgomery’s stories is something I’m happy to share with so many. When I posted the story about the Mennonite woman on Facebook, I was a little surprised to see how many people commented about their own relationship with the books. I think my experiences with the younger generation and their lack of love for Anne made me forget how many people out there are still affected by those stories every day.  It was a beautiful reminder that Anne and Emily are still important to the world, and their stories continue to live on with those of us who love them so much.