#40 - The Sushi Deviation

Written in 2015 during the first week of stepping away, when habit proved louder than intention.

The sushi deviation

The last eight days were something of a revelation.

On my birthday, I decided to step away from almost all personal social media for a year. I knew how that would sound. I had made similar declarations before, usually framed as resolutions that dissolved quietly and without consequence. This time felt different, largely because I was tired of hearing myself repeat them.

A close friend came to stay with us that week. Seeing him in person was a reminder of how thin most digital contact actually is. We talked properly, drank coffee, and eventually went out for lunch.

That morning, I deleted most of the social media clutter from my phone. It felt immediately relieving, like shedding something unnecessary. When we sat down to eat, I switched my phone off, as I had promised myself I would.

And then I became restless.

Agitated. Unsettled. It took a moment to recognise the feeling for what it was. Withdrawal. Without a phone in my hand, without checking, posting, or documenting, my attention kept reaching for something that was no longer there. The realisation was uncomfortable and slightly humiliating. It exposed a habit I had been downplaying for years.

The feeling passed. Lunch was enjoyed. Nothing bad happened.

The next day, I slipped.

Sitting in a restaurant, distracted by novelty and routine, I reached for my phone and took a photo without thinking. I even sent it on. It was only afterwards that the behaviour registered. Forty-eight hours in, and I was already back on the reflex.

I was annoyed with myself, but not surprised. This was not a failure of intention. It was evidence of how deeply rehearsed the behaviour had become.

For the rest of my friend’s visit, I kept my phone switched off. We talked. We laughed. I spent time with my family. Life felt quieter and noticeably fuller once I stopped narrating it.

A single slip did not invalidate the decision. It made it impossible to pretend the decision was optional.