From Couch Rot to Backyard Resurrection

The Divine doesn’t live in the algorithm. But sometimes she shows up in a bird feeder.

I went silent on social media earlier this year. I had enough of the doom scrolling, sinking ever deeper into anxiety (and my couch). So I quit cold turkey. It worked for a while until it didn’t. I’m still scrolling mindlessly on Substack. Same habit, different platform. No algorithm can save me from myself. It’s like the time when I tried to kick my sugar habit. I threw out all the candy in my house but then I just replaced it with “healthier” versions of candy. Still eating candy but now it’s just more expensive.

The other day, while we were waiting for the Heating & Cooling guys to come install a new system, I had an hour to kill. Space like this can be dangerous for a scrolling addict. I murdered a good 30 minutes scrolling through Substack. I could feel the couch rot settling in: the slumped body, the foggy mind, the slow numbing of the soul.

I had made a deal with myself: I’d only be “active” on Substack during my social media pause. Ten minutes max, just to engage a little. But ten minutes turned into twenty. Then thirty. Sure, it wasn’t Instagram Reels. I wasn’t being chased by dog training influencers or drowning in ads for menopause supplements or pilates equipment. But lo and behold, it had the same effect. I became immensely bored. Not because the content wasn’t engaging, but because I was disengaged. I could feel the digital numbness began to settle in my body as I became restless in my pursuit for that next hit, something to spark me alive again. It never does. But the boredom I feel isn’t the problem; it’s the signal.

I put my phone down. Went outside. I was determined to get the feeling back in my soul (and in my legs). I lit a small fire and began to watch for visiting birds at my new feeders. A couple of happy Chickadees began to swirl around me. From tree to feeder, back to tree. They danced to and fro, singing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I noticed the sun glowing through the trees and I welcomed the cool breeze as I felt the warmth of the fire. I did a simple breath prayer: Divine Mother, Creator of all things - open me to love. In a moment, she whispered, “I’m here” and so was I, fully present once again to the world. I didn’t do anything special. I was still sitting. But something started to reawaken. As if Presence itself had been waiting on the other side of boredom, just beyond the scroll. There is far more content outside our screens, far more engagement to behold when we are present.

Screens won’t stop asking for our attention. This is not a “sign-off” essay where I disappear. It is only a reminder that we can return gently to ourselves and God whenever we need. There are signs and symptoms that show us it is time to take a break, to reconnect to wonder. I may never fully break the habit of scrolling (nor sugar for that matter) but I can learn to hold the tension - the tension of loving words and being overwhelmed by them. The Divine meets us in habit as she does in holy moments. There is no final fix, only quiet and gentle noticing.

A noticing that the soul does not bloom in overstimulation, boredom might be the doorway to wonder and sometimes God sounds a lot like a chickadee.

And that returning to yourself is always, always allowed.

With both feet on the ground and my phone (mostly) out of reach,