I Think I Need to Go Offline

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I had a thought last night that felt weirdly dramatic for something so simple.

I think I need to go offline.

Not forever. I’m not moving into the woods and throwing my phone into a lake. I’ll probably still post the occasional Instagram story because apparently even during a minor existential crisis I still need everyone to see a sunset or one of my cats doing something stupid.

But I think I need to disappear from the internet a little bit.

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The weirdest part is that, from the outside, I should be doing great.

I’m in one of the best chapters of my life. I have an incredible partner who loves me. My home life is good. I feel safe. I feel loved. There are parts of my life right now that younger versions of me would probably look at and go, holy shit, we actually got there.

And somehow, I’m still restless.

My social life has definitely taken a hit over the last few years, which I know doesn’t help, but I don’t think that’s the whole problem either.

I think I’ve tied way too much of my identity and self-worth to whoever the fuck I’m trying to be online at any given moment.

Blogger.

Writer.

Content creator.

Streamer.

Person With A Brand™.

Whatever the fuck I’m supposed to be this month.

And lately I’ve realized I don’t actually know who I’m presenting anymore.

Worse, I’m not entirely sure I know who I am when I’m not presenting at all.

And I think that’s the part that scares me.

Because I spend so much time thinking about what I should post, what I should make, what I should become, what direction everything should go in, what I’m doing next, what everyone else is doing, what the internet is mad about today, what people are saying about somebody I have never met and will never meet...

Meanwhile my actual life is sitting five feet away from me asking if I wanna come hang out.

And apparently I’ve been telling it, “One sec.”

For like two years.

I started this year with so many goals, and none of them were even ridiculous. I wasn’t trying to climb Everest or become a millionaire by June.

Some of them were literally things like going for a walk.

A WALK.

Do you know how low the barrier to entry is for walking?

Put shoes on. Open door. Move body forward.

That’s the whole fucking activity.

And somehow I have still managed to spend months thinking about doing things instead of actually doing them.

Writing is probably the biggest example.

I want to be an author more than almost anything. I’ve wanted that for years. I’ve also been “working on books” for like two years now, and I don’t think I’ve made it past five chapters on a single one.

I recently started another one.

It currently has one line.

Thriving.

And every day I don’t write, I know I’m pushing that dream another day away. You would think realizing that would motivate me.

Nope.

Instead I somehow get even more frozen because now I’m thinking about how I’m not writing instead of, you know...

Writing.

It’s like that scene in New Moon where Bella sits in front of the window while the months rotate past her.

Except instead of being heartbroken over Edward Cullen, I’m scrolling TikTok watching someone explain drama involving six strangers while September slowly walks into the room.

Significantly less cinematic.

I turn 40 in a little over four years, and I have a weird relationship with that fact.

Part of me is genuinely excited.

I think there’s something really nice about getting older and knowing yourself better and slowly caring less about all the shit you once thought mattered.

But another part of me is fucking terrified of how quickly time is moving.

Not because I think 40 is old.

It isn’t.

It’s because I’m scared I’m spending years of my life waiting for myself to start living it.

And lately that thought has gotten really, really loud.

My sleep has been awful. I keep waking up in the middle of the night with anxiety, sometimes once, sometimes every couple of hours, and then I can’t fall back asleep.

Which is incredibly fun because then I get anxious about not sleeping.

Then I start thinking about what not sleeping is doing to my body.

Then my brain remembers some terrifying thing I read online about what happens when you consistently don’t sleep enough.

Then suddenly it’s three in the morning and I’m lying there thinking, excellent. Now I’m anxious about being anxious about sleeping.

Perfect system.

No notes.

And it isn’t just affecting me anymore. It affects my girlfriend’s sleep too. It affects my mood. It affects how much energy I have during the day. It affects whether I actually do any of the shit I’ve been telling myself I want to do.

I feel like my body has been permanently stuck in fight-or-flight while my actual life is standing there confused because, objectively, there isn’t currently anything chasing me.

And I think that’s what finally made something click.

I consume way too much of what is happening in the world and not nearly enough of what is happening in my own life.

I know what people online are fighting about.

I know what celebrity said what.

I know what the tea channels uploaded.

I know what horrible thing happened somewhere across the planet twelve minutes ago.

But when was the last time I sat outside without checking my phone?

When was the last time I did a puzzle?

When was the last time I diamond painted just because I wanted to?

When was the last time I went for one of those incredibly complicated walks?

I genuinely don’t know.

And I think that’s the fucking problem.

What’s weird is that I actually used to feel more connected to myself when I was streaming and vlogging, which sounds completely backwards considering I’ve just spent however many paragraphs telling you I need to get off the internet.

But I think there was something about seeing myself all the time that made me more comfortable with myself.

I watched myself on stream. I watched myself back while editing vlogs. I saw my mannerisms, my face, my voice, my stupid jokes, the awkward shit, all of it.

And eventually I stopped analyzing myself so much.

I just became me.

So maybe eventually I’ll go back to that.

I do want to vlog again.

I have an almost complete streaming setup sitting here practically tapping its foot waiting for me to use it.

And I think I will.

Eventually.

But jumping straight back into performing online when I already feel like I’ve completely lost track of myself probably isn’t exactly genius behavior.

I think I need the opposite first.

I need to pull back almost completely.

No blogs for a bit.

No regular Instagram posts.

No constantly trying to figure out what content I should be making next.

I’ll still be around in the discord server. I’ll play games. We’ll stream movies. I’m not deleting myself from the internet, changing my name and entering witness protection.

I just want to stop treating my existence like something that needs to be uploaded.

I want to reconnect with disconnecting.

I want to finish a puzzle.

I want to diamond paint while something dumb plays in the background.

I want to go for walks while there’s still some summer left to enjoy.

I want to pick up my camera because I want to remember something, not because I’m already wondering if the footage could become content.

I want to write because there’s a story in my head that won’t leave me the fuck alone.

I want to figure out who Kass is when nobody is watching.

And yeah, maybe that sounds dramatic.

Maybe I’ll disappear for three weeks, come back with seventeen new ideas and immediately destroy the peace I just spent this entire blog post talking about.

Very possible.

Extremely on brand, actually.

But right now I feel like I’m drowning trying to find myself while simultaneously broadcasting the search.

And I don’t think that’s helping anymore.

I’m really proud that I’ve kept this blog going for two years. When I started, I genuinely don’t think I imagined I’d stick with it for this long.

Two years is a long fucking time for me to consistently show up for anything creative.

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So I don’t want this to sound like I’m quitting.

I’m not.

The Loft: Edit will still be here.

I’ll still be here.

I just want to feel that sense of possibility again.

The version of me from earlier this year who thought things could change because she was actually excited to change them.

The version of me who wanted to try things instead of endlessly thinking about trying things.

The version of me who wasn’t watching her own life pass through a window.

I want to live in it again.

So this isn’t goodbye.

It’s talk soon.

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Maybe I don’t need to figure out who I’m becoming right now. Maybe I just need enough quiet to recognize myself again.

Talk soon, Kass 🛋🌿