Beloveds, We're losing the battle against the Platforms but we can still win the war

I attempted to start a personal Substack about a year ago. I worked on the first post in my head while gardening, and then happily pecked it out with a few photos and sent it off into the ether, with vague plans of trying to post regularly. Beloveds, I'm here to say that I never wrote another post. Why? I certainly kept scrolling through the feed, writing a "note" here and there. But mostly I just asked myself questions, like "what's my niche" and "what will perform well" and "how do I get more readers." Granted, I'm not a professional writer. It's a hobby, obviously. But like most hobbies in this day and age it has become fraught with the mental entanglement with "the platforms."

You know the ones I'm talking about. Walking through the woods on a lovely hike, battling a thought, like a pesky horsefly, that what if I tried to document this ephemeral beauty and shared it with "my network," with "the world?" Or sitting on the sofa reading an amazingly complex novel and this pinging little itch of a thought that interrupt every five or so pages, wondering what's going on on my phone, resting nearby. Coming up with tasks to do on such phone until the pinging becomes a drumbeat and I open it and scroll and scroll and throw it to the end of the sofa out of my reach so I can pick up my novel again, only for the tiny pings to start again.

I've waged war on many addictions in my life. Sugar. Alcohol. Shopping. Obsessing over another person's feelings towards me. And this battle against "the platforms" and their ever loving grip over my one precious life has proven to be a tough one. With drinking, I said goodbye to my favorite drinks of choice until there wasn't one left: no vodka (college), no whiskey (early 20s), no beer (after endless bright red flags of my body not tolerating it), no tequila (my love, our good times were unmatched) and finally wine (the lover that I fantasize about returning to in my old age.) And after 7 years of sobriety I can truly say I'm better off, my mind is at peace with it and my body is so thankful for the path I've chosen.

I thought I would follow a similar path with the platforms. Twitter was easy to give up. Facebook proved trickier only because I got hooked again via local moms' groups. Instagram was so toxic I almost immediately went into a binge and purge cycle since starting my account. The six months of my evenings I completely lost to Tik Tok. And then along came Substack. The high brow platform, the rustic sourdough of the internet, the salvation of the attention span. Or so I thought. Then the features started rolling out one by one, notes, leaderboards, the incessant infection of AI-sounding language. And still I scrolled, hoping to crack some kind of code about why I was still there and where I belonged and could I finally make my mark on the internet here?

I'm exhausted, to be honest. I'm so tired of opening my phone and checking the feeds only to be filled with the outpouring of everyone else's thoughts, marketing jargon and desperate cries for attention and connection sprinkled with horrifying headlines. I get it. So many of us are lonely and facing a world with diminishing face time, and then our sense of self worth gets wrapped up in how well we perform on the platforms. As a mother of two young ones, I truly wonder how they are supposed to form an identity amidst all this. I hesitate to say that I'm worried they won't be able to form a strong sense of perspective in the age of constant stimulation because I know that they are unique souls that yearn to express themselves. But I'm sad that this is the world we've made for them.

I wish I had better advise but beloveds, I'm not here to write a 5 point listicle for the algorithm to crawl. I'm here to eek out 1,000 words at 11:30pm on a Saturday night because I'm truly desperate to break free of these platforms or at least break free from their mental hold on me. I want to remind myself that I am a beautiful unique soul with a singular perspective, and even though I've taken in what probably amounts to a year+ of scrolling endless slop over the past 20 years that I'm still here! I was a sensitive child who loved painting and dancing and singing and flowers. I grew up to be a creative mind for hire - selling my creativity to companies until I got so burnt out that I exited the workforce to hold my babies for a few short precious years.

I'm now part of the "Small Tech" revolution, which Tuhat is certainly a part of as well. Entrepreneurs who have unparalleled access to technology with the capability of building new products and platforms for small communities, for specific purposes, away from the watchful eyes of investors. This may very well be the path out of the darkness that we have been seeking. Either that or we're about to kiss goodbye to original thought and critical thinking. I have conflicted feelings about AI but I can tell you from personal experience that vibe coding a viable product that came from an original idea is worlds more fulfilling than using a chatbot to answer questions or increase productivity or punch up your writing.

We are probably on the precipice of a new era of working with our minds. Many are seeing the damage that these platforms have caused to our psyches, our souls. And as the tsunami of AI technology sweeps in, many are screaming out "but I love my mind and I want to protect it." I feel the same. But I know that change is inevitable and the economic forces that have unleashed these technologies on us are not backing down any time soon. As a creative person, I find myself drawn to the very analogue activities of gardening and painting to balance out the accelerated sessions of building digital products at an unprecedented pace.

Tonight, I stake a small flag in the dunes of Tuhat, a flag that says "I'm here, my mind and soul are precious, unique and worth protecting." I hope that some of you will respond to this message in a bottle, because in the end I am really just seeking connection to all of you, this amazing species whose brains got so big we built ever more complex tools to attach them to. I see you, beloveds, and I honor the precious, unique mind and soul in each and every one of you.