My Apps are Gaslighting Me

I grabbed my phone for the hundredth time that morning. Staring at the screen’s colourful assemblage of apps, I drew a blank: What was it I needed to look at?

My bank? No

My credit cards? Nope, not that.

Actually I’ll take a look at them—just in case! Not that I use them regularly, but just better check for fraud — yeah? It’s happened before!

So, was it my emails? I've three email accounts, which one? I’ll just check all three anyway.

I'll check my Instagram too, all three accounts! (I'm not greedy; I created one for work and created one over a decade ago, when I forgot my password.)

Facebook? It's dreary, drab, and dead, but yeah, better check that too!

I take a breath. Those thoughts and ‘checks’ took less than a minute to swim around my head and action.

I take another breath; it only takes a second to acknowledge the truth: I’m compelled to open up a bunch of apps, with an unconscious, automated, excessive compulsion.

I watched myself being pulled in as if it weren’t my choice, a subliminal contract, and I had to get my fix. As I opened up each app, it was like the drawing sharply back for a nicotine rush of a much-needed cigarette; not that I smoke, but I recall its addictive nature from being a smoker once upon a year.

What the fuck has happened to me? Why am I so controlled by something that leaves me feeling empty, procrastinating, and even low at times? And the truth: it takes up so much of my time!

Why then?

Connection?

Love?

Something?

Anything?

Nothing?

Whatever it is, I can’t bear its pull. Since the pandemic, and my nephew’s suicide, and maybe even losing everything myself — not that there was much to lose — but it was a home and a car, I feel myself getting smaller and smaller, as I travel further and further into the centre of me.

I struggle to accept that I could be addicted, again — after finally being able to break free from my former coping mechanisms, with their comforting, anesthetizing effects. The tug that offers only a lip service self-soothing hug, but I find, social media has grittier connotations than my old vices. Its bondage yields everything that is opposite of humanity and breeds far too many insecurities.

It also steals my attention, my time, and my focus. I get lost inside its mesmerizing rabbit hole, with the endless scrolling as my brain’s rhythm alters its state into the faster rush of life in the digital dimension. Its addiction has been proven to be a similar addiction to slot machines— that constant hope it promises.

I have been cutting the outside world off, as I slowly reach deeper within, inside my writing, and inside out, attempting to work out how to change what I need to change, for a happier and more fulfilling life.

And it isn’t all wrong, it just isn’t all right.

Yet as a Gen X, I know two worlds, and I miss my private world at times. I miss not being found, and I miss people not assuming they know me, just because of what I post, or deem to be, with my online presence.

I miss people not needing or having to block or unfollow me.

I miss being known for me, as my energy and my good points, and not the poor choice posts and words I have sent out into the world that rubbed people up the wrong way or made me look narcissistic.

I even had a client flag me down and ask: “Chantal, what the hell were you posting last night? It’s just bizarre!”

It’s true, I am quirky, and have a way with me in how I communicate. Let’s accept that of one another, surely?

I put her right. Not rudely, but hey, we are all different, get over it!

Even only a couple of years back, I deliberately posted daily for my coaching, whether photos or videos of me, all edited with some filter or other. I had to get past my uncomfortableness, and in doing so—had clients unfollow me.

Okay, not many, and okay, just a client in particular comes to mind, but one is enough in my book. It hurt! Only because I am never out to offend anyone. And we had been close for many years.

I don’t know how to handle this situation where I have annoyed someone by just being me, and showing my inner world, whether it's my insecurity or a need to build confidence in myself.

They say what irritates us about others is more about ourselves. Perhaps we need that guideline or mantra before we enter into the kingdom of Online Land.

I WANT TO BE MYSELF, DON’T YOU?

Is this my fault? Is it because I am already nervous to be me in what I write, as a writer, or has this happened to all of us, with having to tread ultra carefully because of so many different opinions? We all want to be validated and respected.

And even my siblings, I have, for the moment, had a break from, while I sort out my boundaries — even that comes back to haunt me with social media. Whatever I post, they will see, and they will take it that I am being a complete selfish shit, even though I hold zero connotations of that ilk, in my head or even my heart.

Still, I need it to build my brand and sell my creativity, but the lines get confused

I’ve decided to make a stand and guard my time. I deactivated some accounts and removed the apps from my phone. I’m already feeling the benefits, as I wake each morning with a clear sense of space and peaceful presence—wrapped around my mind—it’s tranquil. It’s wonderful to have some balance through boundaries, too.

***

“It is okay to own a technology, what is not okay is to be owned by technology.”—Abhijit Naskar,

© Chantal Weiss 2025. All Rights Reserved