This is an example of a response to a prompted question about social media in our lives for J201, a journalism class at UW-Madison.

January 18^th, 2016 was the day I decided to delete social media from my phone—Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tinder, and even Snapchat. It was sort of a belated New Year’s resolution, a weeklong attempt to help myself stay focused in school, to prevent myself from checking my phone every few minutes as I had made a habit first semester. The change wasn’t groundbreaking for me; the accounts were still active and I could check them on my laptop, but it made an impact.

I needed this change. My phone had become one of those items that I would run back into a burning building to save. From the minute I woke up in the morning, starting the day by scrolling through each feed, to the time I set my alarm and said goodnight to my Snapchat friends, it was always on me. My phone had become a crutch for any time I felt slightly bored or uninterested with the world around me—the real world.

The first day was the easiest. I got out of bed a half hour earlier than normal because I didn’t need check on every feed before finally kicking off my sheets and standing up. By the time I would have normally been lazily scrolling through Cosmo’s weekly horoscope, I was dressed and eating breakfast (a leisure that is all too often replaced by an apple as I rush out the door). Walking to my first morning class of the semester, I reached into my pocket a few times and felt my phone, but instead of pulling it out and mindlessly scrolling, the feel of the chilled plastic case reminded me that there was nothing I needed to look at; I didn’t need to know what was trending on Twitter at 9:35 a.m., and I didn’t need to check Instagram for new likes or followers.

Of course, deleting a few social media apps didn’t nearly free me from my addiction. As I sat in class, I would find myself wondering if I’d gotten any new likes on the “Madison Year 2” Facebook album I had posted the day before. When I got bored in my anthro power-lecture, instead of pulling out my phone, I was forced to sit, daydreaming. Plus, even though I had deleted the apps from my device, after I returned to my apartment, my roommates were quick to start a conversation about the meme they had lol’d at earlier in the day.

The thing is, what’s so bad about laughing at a meme? Laughing is laughing, whether it’s because of something we see on a screen or something our friends do in the 3D world that surrounds us. If your only good laugh of the day comes from watching a video of a kid biting his brother’s finger, I’d say it’s better than nothing. But, just as Grandma said, everything is okay in moderation. Through my weeklong cleanse, I realized that it’s not the social media itself that is becoming too much of my world. Instead, it’s the thirst for likes, for approval. A good laugh is always healthy, but likes shouldn’t be the medicine my body depends on daily.

Even during my time without access to social media on my phone, I discovered that media is truly inescapable, but this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Social media is powerful and instead of feeling ashamed over the amount of time spent using it, we should really be tapping into its potential. On top of providing laughs over seemingly trivial things, social media is a force that connects. As I ended my cleanse, re-downloading the apps I’d survived a week without, I realized a new appreciation for the powers, good and bad, social media holds. Looking back, while I’m proud of the time my cleanse freed up every day, I realize that it’s not necessary to give up social media completely. Go for a phoneless walk and let your senses take in the world around you, but don’t feel guilty when you refresh your Facebook feed once you get home.