When the recent power outage swept across parts of Portugal and Spain, something unexpected happened. For a few precious hours, our devices went dark. No WhatsApp pings. No blinking notifications. No messages demanding response. Just a stillness – electrical and emotional – that I hadn’t realised I craved until it arrived.
What I felt, in that window of forced disconnection, wasn’t panic. It was relief.
There was no expectation to reply to a post, acknowledge a photograph, or react to someone’s forwarded meme. No sense that I might be letting someone down by not engaging in the swirl of online activity. In the quiet that followed the outage, it struck me just how entangled we’ve become in a cycle of digital response – one we never consciously agreed to but now feel unable to step away from.
We are caught in a loop of performance and validation. We are praised for being responsive, encouraged to stay “connected,” but rarely do we ask what we’re connecting to – or why. The truth is, much of it is noise. Social media noise. Cluttered, persistent, emotionally demanding, and curiously empty.
We are added to WhatsApp groups we didn’t ask for and feel a flicker of being chosen – briefly uplifted by the idea that we’ve made the cut. But very soon, that buzz of inclusion turns into an obligation. Another thread to keep track of. Another space where silence is interpreted as distance. Another place where we perform our presence.
The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard warned us: “The present state of the world and the whole of life is diseased. If I were a doctor and asked for my advice, I should reply, create silence.” We live in a time where silence feels like a luxury. It’s not just a matter of external noise; it’s the internal pressure we feel to always engage, to always respond, to keep up with the constant flow of messages and information.
This performance extends beyond messages. We’ve started to live our lives outwardly, narrating and showcasing rather than simply experiencing. We snap and share pictures before we’ve fully tasted the meal. We announce our joy, grief, achievements, and everyday moments not just to inform, but to prove. To demonstrate that we are “in it” – that we are active, engaged, relevant.
‘We must rethink how we engage with the digital world. Instead of letting it dictate our rhythms, we can learn to set our own’
And the moment we post, we wait. For likes. For comments. For affirmation that our experience matters to someone else. It’s a hunger for external validation dressed up as normal life. The irony is that in curating our lives to meet others’ expectations, we lose touch with our own. The internal compass – quiet, firm, intuitive – gets drowned in the social media noise.
We rarely talk about the cost of all this. The subtle fatigue of responding to dozens of messages daily. The guilt of ignoring someone’s update. The emotional labour of staying politely enthusiastic in 10 different group chats, even when we feel spent. These costs add up. They dilute our attention, blur our priorities, and slowly chip away at our mental clarity.
Simone Weil, in her meditation on attention, argued that “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” But how generous are we being with our attention when we’re constantly drawn away by the next notification? Our attention is pulled, stretched, fragmented, until it is no longer available for the moments and connections that matter most.
We are left overstimulated but undernourished. Surrounded by constant communication but still lonely. Pulled in many directions but unable to locate a centre. The author Anne Lamott once wrote, “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” Yet, in today’s world, this unplugging is harder than ever. We’re more connected, but in ways that leave us emotionally drained and disconnected from ourselves.
We need to recalibrate. It’s not enough to disconnect occasionally; we must rethink how we engage with the digital world. Instead of letting it dictate our rhythms, we can learn to set our own. A critical part of this recalibration is learning to protect our boundaries. If we don’t actively take charge of our time and energy, social media noise will continue to overwhelm us.
In fact, we need to develop a new etiquette – one not just for our digital communications, but for how we manage our emotional presence in these spaces. How do we respond? When do we step back? And, perhaps most importantly, when do we allow ourselves not to respond at all?
Here’s how:
- Create pause. Let yourself experience moments without needing to translate them into updates.
- Give slow replies. If it’s not urgent, allow space before responding.
- Set the tone in groups. Silence doesn’t equal rudeness – it can mean rest.
- Use your presence wisely. Instead of being always available, be meaningfully available.
- Let your phone be boring again. Reclaim your attention as something precious.
- Don’t chase the glow of inclusion – build intimacy in fewer, quieter places.
- I no longer ask people to “understand” when I take a step back. I just step.
