Here’s to an Analog 2026! Last week, I celebrated a milestone that still feels utterly surreal: twelve years cancer-free.
This is a big deal. Every year the day rolls around, I’m still blown away that this is something I once had to deal with. The anniversary is a powerful marker in time, anchoring me to a past challenge while reminding me of the present.
The last couple of years, however, have felt chaotic. Ever since the pandemic, our world shifted, and it often feels like the speed at which we’re being catapulted through the universe has 100x’d overnight. Everyone says it feels like a lot, but right now, it specifically feels like too much.
The Year of ‘Enough’
Not many people know this, but at the end of 2024, I decided that in 2025 I was going to try really hard not to buy any new clothing. I was standing in my closet one day, looking at the sheer volume of shirts, pants, and shoes, and the thought hit me: I have enough. I don’t need any more.
And I nearly did it.
I spent less than $120 on clothing for the entire year of 2025. I’ll admit to a small slip: I went on vacation twice and bought one pair of pants and a sweater while away. I’m letting that slide because they weren’t from Vancouver, so they were ‘souvenirs’ (that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it). The point is, I successfully slowed down one specific aspect of consumption in my life. It was a conscious, quiet rebellion against the ‘more, more, more’ mentality.
The Social Media Unplug
Then came New Year’s Eve 2025. I saw something on Instagram that just sent me through the roof, triggering my social media unplug commitment.
And just like that, I was done.
I decided to make a dramatic change. I am no longer going to be a slave to this stupid, addictive bullshit. This app, this platform we were tricked into using under the guise of “connection” is actively working against us making this digital detox necessary.
Yes, I get the “I told you so.” If anything is free, you’re the product. I accept that premise, but I’m only okay with it if I was getting value in return. I am not. With the rise of AI, the influx of bots, and the platform’s algorithms actively preventing followers from seeing content, the utility of it has vanished for me.
I used to post a video, and my local followers would see it, leading them to book a session. Now? I’ll be lucky if one person who follows me sees it. Instead, the algorithm is blasting my content out to people in other countries and cities who are no good to my actual, local business.
I don’t want to build a massive digital following and sell digital products or courses. I want to help people in my community feel better through my work and the Lucia Light Experience. But the platform seems determined to prioritize people who want to collect followers like trophies, and in doing so, it actively works against genuine connection and engagement.
I started thinking: What if I stop consuming? What if I stop consuming other people’s endless opinions, manufactured drama, and content that is designed purely to hold my attention captive?
An Analog 2026
One week into the new year and I haven’t consumed any instagram or TikTok content. I pre-planned what I needed to post, and I log on briefly to post it and check direct messages, but that’s it. In the five seven days of 2026, I have spent less than eight minutes on the platform. To me, it feels almost weird, like I’m missing a limb.
My goal is to keep this up all year and try my hand at having an Analog 2026.
For two years, I have never once signed onto that app and felt good about it. Not once. Even when I was doing my own work, creating what I was told my followers wanted, it felt like a transactional nightmare. My actual business is trying to educate people about something available to them to make them feel better. And I guess, because that goes against a platform designed to foster anxiety and inadequacy, IG just says, “Fuck it.”
I need time to think. I barely feel like I give myself a moment to process anything anymore. I’m done with the constant feed, the noise, and the feeling of never being enough.
I want to see what I can create when I’m not constantly comparing, consuming, or being catapulted through the digital universe. This year, I’m trading the dopamine hit of the scroll for the quiet satisfaction of the present. I’m trading algorithmic slavery for twelve years of hard-won, cancer-free freedom.
It’s time to build a real life again.
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