Earlier this year, we grounded our daughter. No social media for a month.
Had we demanded she give us one of her fingers instead – self-severed and wrapped neatly in a box – we would’ve faced less anguish and despair.
When I asked her what part of this cruel and unusual punishment would be the hardest to navigate, the answer surprised me:
“My Snapchat streaks!”
Now, for those who don’t know, Snapchat is a social media app that gamifies interaction. You amass a “streak” for every consecutive day you send a picture to the same person. But the kids aren’t sending selfies or pictures of their food or even showing things they’re interested in. They’re photos of the floor, a wall, half a face, a blurry mess – a quick nothing just to continue the count.
These streaks have become an obsession. Kids are amassing multi-year counts.
And look, no matter what the thing is, the idea of losing something you’ve been doing every day for so long is painful. An abandonment of invested time and energy.
Nevertheless, it's ridiculous. And of course, I was sure to say as much.
Oh, how the universe is clever.
Something you should know about me is that I like my mornings languid. I have never been, despite multiple attempts to be so, someone who wakes and bolts into motion. My onramp from waking to functioning is slow and low, and I’ve developed a routine that gives me a sense of calm before engaging in our hustle bustle world.
You see, I’ve got this whole thing. I start with a cup of herbal tea, then a cup of coffee. I quickly catch up on my friend’s lives and then spend the remaining time leisurely playing games on my phone.
I have this one game I’ve played for like, at least 5 years now. I won’t embarrass myself with the details of it, but let’s just say it’s pointless. No skill involved.
It’s a trick of the brain – a way to convince myself I don’t have to rush to do anything at all. The world may be speeding along around me, but I’m just there, warming up the car.
It has been a protective, protected ritual.
Now, somewhere in that space that’s both all at once and time drawn out, something shifted. Despite following the steps – tea and coffee, scroll and game - I just haven’t felt ready when I finish. Instead of energized, I’ve felt scattered. Rushed. Unmoored.
I began lingering after the last sip, willing the day to wait for me to want to proceed with it. Like a petulant child refusing to put on their shoes knowing they’ll miss the bus but not caring. The fatigue became undeniable.
With the days, and then weeks, and then months of feeling thrown into my day, I found myself listless – energy and vigor gone missing. Tired in a way I haven’t felt in decades. Sloth-like in both thought and movement. Burnout by a world asking for too much.
So I set a plan to be a potato.
One full week of deliberate underachievement – really embrace the whole, low-energy situation. See if leaning toward the feeling of ennui would help me balance it.
With a mandate to do nothing, I took to the one thing I knew was a pure waste of time. I wrapped myself in a blanket, grabbed my coffee, and nestled onto the couch. Totally ready for the gift of slowness and its rejuvenating feeling I had come to love.
And…. nothing.
It wasn’t fun, relaxing, or otherwise restorative. With all the time in the world to play the game, I actually found myself annoyed by it. And I realized, quite suddenly, that playing the game had become a chore. Something I had to get through. A task to mark complete.
It was my own, self-inflicted Snapchat streak.
I had unknowingly sabotaged myself. A routine designed to keep me from embarking too soon on a to-do list had become its own demand. A habit that was inhibiting the very feeling it was supposed to be offering. No wonder I’d been so tired.
So, without much hesitation, I deleted the game.
Without that old anchor, each morning is fluid. I’ve done a puzzle (an actual one). I sat with the birds as I sipped my tea. I’ve let my mind wander and wonder. One day, I even did some chores first, because it felt like doing so would help clear the mental space in the rest of my day. It did.
Each morning, I now choose my activity with intention and awareness based on how I actually feel. Not just what I’ve always done. And the difference has been profound.
I wrote an entire book on questioning your internal programming. On investigating the behavioral patterns that run on autopilot. I know how vital it is to revisit even the most familiar things.
And still, I forgot.
It’s so easy to slip into habit. To let a once-healing action become doctrine. Dogma, even. It’s always a good idea to question the things we do. It’s always worth pausing to ask:
How many of the things you’re doing, formed into habit, are actually doing you harm?
The things we start for comfort can easily become cages.
And streaks - digital or otherwise - aren’t always worth keeping.
