Love That! For you 🙄

A two-word antidote for social media-induced despair

I loathe mindlessly scrolling on social media.¹

Every now and then, about once a full and new moon, something prompts me to open Instagram. Sure enough, soon I’m down a rabbit hole (again) of compare-and-despair. And no, I don’t want to go to therapy for this. There’s a simpler response:

Put. The. Phone. Down.

With one exception: my husband Michael curates the best stuff—mostly smart, witty, hilarious memes—including things like

Adam Aronovich

’s side-splitting, biting critiques of cannibal capitalist systems in

Healing from Healing

(IG: @healingfromhealing).

What’s my beef with social media feeds?

I thought you’d never ask . . .

Let’s jump back to July, the morning just before this ‘doh Substack went live.

✍️ July 5, 2023 at 7:00 a.m.

I’m in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, wearing a so-help-me-please-cover-absolutely-everything-up cotton SummerSalt Caftan,² sitting poolside at an uncomfortable angle on an un-adjustable lounge chair at the chaotic family hotel.

It’s just after sunrise, the sky a soft pink, waves crashing aggressively on the nearby shore, just one precious hour before fellow patrons and the stifling heat arrive.

I know I shouldn’t have my laptop open on vacation, but today is a big day. I just want to make sure everything is ready.

It’s my twelve-year biziversary. My first drop of five inaugural essays for this Substack are going live in three hours.

I scheduled them three weeks ago so that the harder action would be unscheduling, taking them down, rather than mustering the courage to hit publish today. 51/49.

Michael, ever the night owl, has sent me a cache of funny memes while I was asleep. He takes great pride in his selection, always hoping to make me laugh or at least coo at something adorable that a little porcupine, gerbil, baby raccoon, or bunny is doing.

The only problem is that after perusing his curation that morning, I land back on my main feed. First mistake.

Second mistake: I start mindlessly scrolling.

I stumble upon a post from someone in my extended network whom I deeply respect, having a word with us about writing.

My throat tightens as I read the first few lines. Am I making a huge mistake? Is this IG post a sign that I should reconsider? Am I an idiot?

Third mistake: I read the rest.

It says: