Last Thursday night I was doomscrolling through Instagram again, feeling like absolute crap watching engagement ring ads and bridesmaid dresses. My finger literally hurt from swiping left on dating apps. That’s when I slammed my phone facedown and thought: “Girl, this ain’t working.” Time to try something radical.
The Tipping Point
Friday morning, I did two things before coffee: Deleted every dating app (felt like unshackling chains) and bought a neon pink sticky note pad. Wrote “WHAT’S ACTUALLY MY BUSINESS?” in all caps and stuck it on my bathroom mirror. Every time I caught myself stressing about “why hasn’t he texted back” or “am I gonna die alone?”, I’d shout “NOT MY BUSINESS!” like a maniac. Neighbors probably think I’m nuts. Don’t care.
Rewrite The Damn Script
Saturday, I grabbed a notebook and forced myself to do this:
- Made Dumb Comparison List: Scribbled crap I used to envy — Sarah’s wedding pics, Linda’s baby showers, Insta-perfect couples. Burned that paper in my sink. Smelled terrible, felt amazing.
- Answered One Question: “What can I control right freaking now?” Wrote: My sourdough starter’s name (Dough-bra), booking that pottery class I eyed for months, walking 20 mins daily even if just to stare at pigeons.
- Stalked… Myself: Scrolled through MY camera roll. Found 87 photos of sunsets I took, that killer risotto I made last winter, and me laughing till I cried at my nephew’s dinosaur impression. Realized: “Damn, my life’s kinda beautiful already.”
Putting Blinders On
Sunday hurt. Woke up craving toxic ex’s texts. Instead of drunk-texting, I threw on mismatched socks, blasted Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”, and danced badly while making pancakes. Burned half of them. Still ate ’em. Then did The Big Unfollow: muted 15 “perfect life” accounts & ex’s cousin’s dog’s profile (no regrets).
What Actually Happened
By Wednesday? Honest update:
- Felt lighter. Like I dropped 50lbs of other people’s expectations.
- Got weirdly excited about propagating my spider plant. Named the babies.
- My bank account grew ’cause I stopped “retail therapy” for heartache.
- Still cried once watching a rom-com trailer. Progress ain’t linear.
Final thought? Switching your brain’s channel takes ruthless action. Not positive vibes. Not waiting for epiphanies. It’s dumping what drains you, grabbing what sparks joy (yes, even creepy plant babies), and screaming at mirrors. Still single. Way happier.
