Day 1 – Wednesday, 3:10 PM

It’s been two hours. Two. Whole. Hours. And I’m already starting to realise what a terribly misguided decision I’ve made. Honestly, now, shouldn’t email be allowed? Just email! Email is important, right? What if I get one of those “you just won a million euros in the lottery” messages? I mean… I don’t actually play the lottery, but that’s beside the point. This will be my only exception, I promise: email check twice a day. Once at 8 AM, once at 9 PM. That’s it. Read, reply, close. Pinky swear.

And to think I almost gave up my phone too until Monday morning… my eyes are rolling so hard, I might sprain something. Good thing that idea lasted exactly 0.3 seconds. Right. Let’s see how I can replace my luxurious hours of internet scrolling.

9:00 PM

I’m practically itching to throw myself at the keyboard and type gibberish just to feel the keys under my fingers. Is internet withdrawal a thing? Well, it is now. Tried to nap just to fast-forward the day. Already finished one book (granted, a slim one), cooked dinner, went biking, took a few moody photos… and it’s still only 9 PM. Should I just go to bed? It feels too early. It’s still light outside—it gets dark at, like, 11 these days. I’m off to watch some McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy. He’s my digital methadone.

10:45 PM

I wonder what the girls are doing. Probably on Facebook. Not that I’m checking. I’m only here to open Word and type, I swear! Nothing more. I mean, I’m a grown 33-year-old woman—assertiveness is my middle name. Right? Sort of?
Honestly, what was I thinking with this experiment? I blame the lunar eclipse. It must’ve scrambled my logic. But now I’m in it, so I have to commit. Repeat after me: I have willpower. I am willpower. I’m an ocean of self-control.
Ugh, no. That doesn’t work. I’ll just go to bed. It’s still light outside. I feel like a chicken.

Day 2 – Thursday, 11:09 AM

Good news, fellow humans—I’m still afloat. Checked my email last night and again this morning. That’s it. Withdrawal symptoms are waning. The world feels like a better place today. Yes, I can live without the internet. I mean… I don’t want to, but I can. And since I’ve already committed to this strange little detox, I must go on.

It’s raining. All. Day. Long. This will be tough. Time to roll up my sleeves and deep-clean the house. Because nothing screams “self-restraint” like scrubbing grout. And starting Monday, I swear I’ll build a reasonable internet schedule. No more “just a quick scroll” that turns into two hours. I’ll be strict. Disciplined. I have willpower. I am a waterfall of willpower. Wait—can someone lose their mind repeating internet-detox mantras? Asking for a friend.

9:30 PM

Checked email again. Temptation level? Slightly lower. Still there, though. But hey, here’s a scientific-ish observation:
When something is forbidden, your brain goes all I need it RIGHT NOW. Then comes denial: Pff, I’m fine without it. Next up: desperation—Oh God, I miss it so much, why am I so weak?. And finally: Maybe I really can live without it.
It’s kind of like getting ghosted by a really cute guy.
Except, unlike the cute guy, I know the internet will be back Monday morning. You can’t always say the same about a man. Especially post-30. By that age, you don’t build castles in the sand anymore. You just shrug and say, Wasn’t meant to be.

Day 3 – Friday, 3:45 PM

Still standing. No Facebook, no messenger, no news feeds. I barely think about the internet now (once every few hours doesn’t count, okay?). Truth is, you can do so many delightful things instead of chatting online: make a fancy breakfast, listen to vintage music without pings interrupting every verse, or even—wait for it—plan a theme party! A real one. With humans.

10:52 PM

I’m doing great. Really. It’s Friday, right? So that leaves Saturday, Sunday… and then glorious, glorious Monday. I can do this.

Day 5 – Sunday, 9:56 AM

Woke up with a horrible headache. Must be from internet deprivation overload. One more day. I got this. Tomorrow I’ll return to the pixelated world and promise to browse like a responsible adult. Ish.

10:34 PM

It’s raining. Again. Not cats and dogs—more like the entire municipal fountain system.
I’ve read, made handmade cards like a Victorian aunt, cooked weird things, went on walks, danced on the Wii, spent quality time with my kid, visited people, read again, struggled with Dutch (and Dutch struggled with me), arranged my shoes, listened to classical music (I bought 5 CDs for €2.60 at a second-hand market—score!).

But truth be told, I can’t wait for Monday morning. I miss my blog. I miss Facebook. I miss messenger! I miss mindless internet rabbit holes.

I don’t think I defeated my addiction. I just came to terms with it. Internet is part of my life. Full stop. And honestly, I wouldn’t last a day on a deserted island unless it came with Wi-Fi.

But hey—I tried!