Here's what quitting social media for a week taught me about creativity

For the past few months, my relationship with Instagram has hit a rut. I wake up and the monotonous clockwork begins. My hand invariably reaches out for my phone, I scroll for my five minutes of morning news, and the day unfolds in a litany of swipes. It’s fake dopamine, fleeting satisfaction, and a brain on autopilot. Clearly it’s time for a shake-up.

Fuelled by the want for satisfaction and a pinch of curiosity, I decided to try a digital detox. Categorised under “excessive Internet usage and gaming”, it’s one of six compulsive behaviours tackled by dopamine fasting. Originally a Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) technique by Californian psychiatrist Dr Cameron Sepah, the phenomenon quickly proliferated as a pop culture trend, thanks to its catchy name and the promise of a transformation.

The concept? Breaking free from the unending loop of instant gratification by limiting the impact of barraging stimuli. As the Harvard Medical School explains, dopamine is a neurotransmitter tied to reward, motivation, learning, and pleasure. This detox isn’t about achieving a reset—it’s about reclaiming control, breaking habits, and maybe finding a little more meaning in the mundane. What’s the worst that could happen?

Day 1: Initiation day 

It’s 10:30 am on December 28, a Saturday, and I’ve indulged in three glorious extra hours of weekend sleep. As I groggily recall that today’s initiation day, I find myself feeling oddly smug. After all, casually dropping, “Oh, I haven’t been checking any stories, I’m on a dopamine fast for my next article” might gather some impressive nods. The day passes with ease as I dive into my self-proclaimed “hectic” schedule, slipping the phrase into at least three conversations. After dinner, though, things take a turn. My family retreats into their rooms, my weekly bestie call is done, and I’m left feeling incomplete like I’m missing something. Productive? Sure.

But what now? Weekend nights are sacred for one thing—rotting. Think mindless scrolling, catching on trendy audios, and just being. Reading or movies can’t compete with the joy of a good rot day. Resisting the urge, I force myself into bed by 11 pm. A small win, but the day ends on a strangely annoyed note, like hangry, but for the thumb exercise. 

Day 2: This detox is a fad 

As boredom prevails on the second day, I notice an unsettling void in those fleeting moments between daily tasks—moments once filled by habitual, mindless reel-watching. My new-found refuge? Blankly staring at the wall in front of me. This seemingly bizarre pastime (as attested by my mother) leads to an epiphany—neither am I addicted to social media nor do I get FOMO about other people’s lives. I just have this weird, almost cathartic habit of getting bored by it. Reflecting on it, the urge to pick up the phone and scroll is unhinged, yet oddly mechanical. However, after scrolling for 10 minutes, with 30 seconds of fake entertainment, that urge dissipates, and I come out on the other end, somewhat bored still inevitably nudged towards the next task. Sure, scrolling was boring, but was it the right kind of boring?

Day 3: Docus, drama, and denial 

I thought watching The Social Dilemma might help. Exploring the “dark side of social media” might make this detox justifiable. But instead of reflecting, I found myself strategising ways to hack the algorithm. “What posts should I engage with to get more song recommendations like Dramamine?” That’s when it hit me: this isn’t helping. I put away my laptop, judged myself for the loop I was in, and went back to staring at the wall. 

Day 4: Is doomscrolling the new self-soothing? 

It’s officially New Year’s and I applaud myself, with a little bitterness, for choosing the worst possible time for this fast as I look at the starred pictures in my gallery, waiting to be put in the year round-up post. After sending a sweet text to my best friend, showering my family with love, and indulging in a quick emo recap about those two complicated connections from this year, I’m in my room, staring at my phone, asking myself, “If I’m not doomscrolling, what do I even do with myself?” This detox is making one thing crystal clear: I’m painfully self-aware. I may be acquainted with the reality of social media, yet I’ll keep scrolling in the hope of stumbling upon that one perfect movie excerpt convincing me to watch it. Social media isn’t real fun; it’s an illusion of fun, a constant chase for fleeting amusement. Let’s call it what it is: an addiction to the pursuit, not the payoff—because the payoff is almost always underwhelming. 

Day 5: Is WhatsApp even social media? 

By day five I’m on the precipice of a philosophical revelation: Is WhatsApp even social media? Hear me out. There’s no scroll feature (why though?), so that’s point one for the app. But the inane urge to scroll was so intense that I resorted to exploring WhatsApp statuses. After all, they’re stories too, even if they’re motivational quotes paired with glittery sunsets. Three contacts and two Mahabharat excerpts in, I stumble upon something unexpected: a kitty party invite. I will deny it if anyone ever asks me, but a tiny part of me was curious. What might be going on in that group chat? An overload of religious wisdom? Supposedly funny memes of people tripping on animals? The ultimate biryani recipe? Gossip on global affairs? Claims of their children’s great marksheets? Who knows. But just as I contemplated whether to join the kitty party group, I had a moment of clarity—this is where we draw the line. Imagine my only two friends remembering me as the one who knows the hourly comings and goings of the single girl in 3B. Horrendous. 

Day 6: Boredom, but make it creative 

Yesterday’s spiral made me realise that boredom with no distractions is a strange new space. Without the incessant scrolling, I find myself in a strange new headspace— thinking. Not overthinking, but random thinking, even about the abstract possibilities of the universe (this philosophy stuff is really doing a number).“If I fell into a black hole, could I pop out in another universe?” Turns out, scientists were right—we do need to get bored to be with ourselves. It’s in the boring bits that our minds free up for creativity. Maybe if I’d done this sooner, I’d have some killer pitches for my editor. Or maybe just more black hole theories. Either way, it’s a vibe.

Day 7: Graduation day 

It’s the final day of my week-long detox, and here’s the thing: I am now oddly at peace and a little upset that I don’t have an adventure waiting for tomorrow. With the urge to click on the Instagram icon no more, I’d say I’m successfully past the whim for a euphoric social media comeback. Abstaining from the stimuli of stand-up comics and GOT bytes has been for the better. Sure, I haven’t unlocked the secrets of the universe or found my life’s purpose, but I did sleep more and found tiny bursts of creativity. I learnt that quitting social media isn’t a gateway to a hyper-productive lifestyle of 15-page reads and daily cardio sessions. It’s simpler than that—it’s about carving out space to think, to just be. Past the challenge, boredom does set it, but for me, that place came with creativity. It’s fun, in a banal way. Like an unplanned adventure—something happening, even if it’s nothing at all. I figured I could do without the stimulation, even end up being vigoured by the boredom a little bit. Who knows what the next round will hold? Here's hoping at the end of the boredom tunnel is the great ideas waterfall.

All images: Illustrations by Tanya Chaturvedi

This article originally appeared in the January-February 2025 print edition of Cosmopolitan India. 

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