Decluttering and my Facebook fast

Two years ago, I gave up Facebook for Lent. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’m about to take another Facebook fast, though I won’t go 40 days.

When I gave up Facebook, I thought I’d have more time—and I did. I read more. I got more writing done. I got up off my ass and did things. I got outside more.

What I didn’t expect was how much noise it cut out of my life. After a few days, I felt a stillness I hadn’t realized was missing. I stopped composing posts in my head. I didn’t wonder what was going on. I no longer mindlessly clicked onto the open Facebook tab in my browser. Instead, I focused.

There are things I will miss:

  • Sharing with this group who helped me so much in my business over the past five months.
  • Connecting with a new moms group
  • Chatting in an online book group with this group, where I also like to talk food and garden.
  • Getting news—that a friend just had her rainbow baby, that one of my friends just started reading the book I just finished—and reminders, like Lego club is today.

And then there’s Facebook magic, like when I posted about how I’d make garlic bread if I had bread and having the bread show up at my door.

But I won’t miss clicking on articles that I may not really want to read, the compulsion to look again and again and again, staying up too late because I was scrolling too long. I won’t miss closing my computer more often and opening a book instead.

I’ve been working on decluttering my house lately. Maybe I’ll make more progress with fewer online distractions, but better yet I’ll declutter my mind for a while.


 

Have you taken a break from Facebook (or have you resisted it altogether)? Tell me about it.

 

A love of letters—a different kind of writing challenge

Dear Reader,

February Letter Writing ChallengeIt’s been a while since I wrote here. December was the month of making space, and January, I thought, would be the month of fresh starts. Instead, January walloped me with a little too much to do.

I managed to keep up with most of it—the client work, welcoming new clients, writing an essay, writing my monthly post for Empty Arms. I even managed to read a bunch. I just didn’t make it to this spot despite all my good intentions to connect more.

And now it’s February—another chance at a fresh start. A friend posted this challenge to write a letter every day there is mail in the month of February (bonus—write a letter on the other five days too). I find myself inspired.

I LOVE letters (I wrote more about that here) and I miss them.

I miss the excitement of finding an envelope (that’s not a bill) in the mail.

I miss sitting down and getting a glimpse into a friend’s day.

I miss the time and space created in the writing and reading. Again and again I find myself wanting to slow down. So this month I will—and in that space I’ll write letters.

I might start with the weather:

Tonight when I ran out to the grill in just sweatshirt to cook dinner, I didn’t wish I had put my coat on. There was a softness to the air that doesn’t belong in February. Earlier, waiting for K’s bus, I peeked at the bare ground by the back door wondering if the snowdrops would show their heads early. Even though it hasn’t been much of a winter (December found us eating at the picnic table and we’ve yet to get a covering of snow), I still smiled to see tiny green points of hope coming out of the ground.

I’ll tell you what I’ve been cooking (steak subs with blue cheese and caramelized onions) and how the books I’ve been reading make me want to spend more time cooking and relaxing around the table.

I’ll tell you what I’ve been reading (All the Light We Cannot See, Cooked, Death at La Fenice . . . ) and ask for suggestions.

I’ll talk about my kids, my writing, my wanting to start running again. I’ll talk about grief and joy, boredom and inspiration. I’ll tell you about dreams and my garden.

And I’ll hope I hear back, because I love writing letters, and I love getting them (and writing back and getting another).

Until next time,

Sara


Will you join the challenge and write 24 letters this month?