You don’t usually realise you’ve overdosed on social media until your eyeballs hurt and you’ve convinced yourself that everyone you know is either on a yacht, starting a podcast or selling protein powder because they’re better than you.

It starts innocently enough; you open Instagram to check one message and find yourself, 27 minutes later, emotionally invested in the holiday of a bloke you once worked with in 2014. It doesn’t matter that you don’t like him much. You’re not even sure what he does now, but he’s in Bali and you’re eating dry cereal in your day 2 pants, so it’s safe to say he’s winning.

It’s not just the holiday envy. It’s the noise, the news, the opinions. The constant rolling scroll of rage, recipes, six-packs, bad takes and “I just wanted to hop on and share” videos that make you question your place in the universe. It’s exhausting and yet, somehow, addictive.

The curiosity is that it’s not even all bad. Social media can be brilliant for connection, laughter, learning and motivation. It can also be a black hole of envy that eats your time, erodes your focus, and leaves you wondering why you feel anxious after a ten minute browse that mysteriously lasted an hour.

Yet we keep going back. In quiet moments, especially during those now everywhere TV adverts (unless your rich and can afford the no ads option). When we’re supposed to be working, definitely when we’re meant to be sleeping. You get the dopamine hit, then the slump, followed by the creeping sense that your brain is full of static and you haven’t had a single original thought since about 2004.

The problem isn’t just volume, it’s velocity. Your mind doesn’t get time to process anything, the pace of content is like The Flash on speed. You absorb hundreds of stimuli, emotional shifts and comparisons without even noticing. You go from a friend’s wedding to a tragic news headline to a meme about cats wearing riding the robot hoover and your nervous system is supposed to just cope?

What gets lost in the chaos is the space your brain needs. The kind of space where actual thinking happens. Reflection, creativity, stillness. Instead your head feels like a rowdy pub where everyone’s talking and no one’s listening and they’ve run out of whisky.

Taking a break feels dramatic, even though it isn’t. You don’t have to go full hermit. It is, however, worth noticing how much energy is leaking out of you in small, endless scrolls. You don’t need to post less to feel better, you just need to consume with a bit more care and attention. Less doomscrolling before bed. Fewer algorithm fed spirals. More silence and more boredom, and definitely more being gloriously offline.

Because the truth is our brains were not built for this much rapid input. Not every opinion deserves a reaction. Not every moment needs to be shared (what a lovely dinner that looks like). Not everything you’re feeling is yours, some of it is borrowed, absorbed or triggered by a stranger’s post about their 5am cold plunge. Think how you instantly perk up when you hear THAT bit of music, now think the other side of that coin, the content that instantly destroys your mood.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is put the phone down, go outside and let your mind get a bit bored again. It’s not really boredom, that’s where clarity lives. That’s where your real life is. And it’s probably a lot better than you’ve been giving it credit for.