The Year I Logged Off
What I saw online, in friendships, and in myself before choosing to walk away.
TLDR
I’ve had enough of the judgment, outrage, and emotional whiplash online, in friendships, and even in recovery circles. From people I trusted turning cold, to caregivers spewing hate, to spiritual hypocrisy dressed up as virtue. it’s left me worn out. I’ve deleted the apps. Logged off. I’m not angry anymore. I’m just done.
Why I Can’t Sleep
It’s 2 a.m., and I’m wide awake.
Not because of caffeine. Not because of screens. Because I’m ruminating, one more time. Replaying a conversation I didn’t expect to sting as much as it did. One of those interactions where someone says something cruel, and it lodges in your brain. And every time it loops in your head, it cuts a little deeper.
Recently, I had a falling out with someone I thought might become a woman friend. It didn’t start badly. It became bad. What began as thoughtful turned sharp, dismissive, and ultimately judgmental. It was not just toward me, but toward people I care about. My Asian friends from when I worked overseas. People she saw on my Facebook. People I’ve known and worked with personally. People who have lived and worked hard under harsh conditions in countries with poor human rights records, where most Americans wouldn’t last a week. Long hours, limited rights, sending money home while being treated like they’re invisible. And listening to her casually dismiss my friends wasn’t just frustrating; it was painful. Now, in retrospect, with all the unresolved anger she carried from a broken marriage, it felt like she was looking for someone to be angry at.
Patterns Repeat
It wasn’t the first time either. Last year, a roommate went from cold to colder, from distant to contemptuous. Both experiences taught me that some people carry old wounds like armor. And instead of learning from those wounds, they sharpen them into a way of interacting with the world.
And there’s something else I’ve struggled to understand. With both the former roommate and the woman I tried to befriend, both Chinese from China, there was a kind of emotional distance I couldn’t cross, which I now see as arrogance and rudeness. I’ve felt that same pattern in other connections, almost always, but not always, with people born and raised in mainland China. Things start warm, even promising, but once they leave or move on, it’s like you never existed. No follow-up. No connection. Just gone. You’re the one always trying to keep the thread alive, and eventually, you realize there’s nothing on the other end.
It’s not the same with American-born Chinese, or people from other parts of Asia. This seems specific. And over time, it wears you down. You start to question if the warmth was ever real, or just temporary politeness.
The World Is Angry
At the same time, I’ve been watching real-world events unfold that feel strangely connected. I saw a video of an ICU nurse spitting and kicking a federal agent’s car until the taillight broke. This was a caregiver, someone trained to stay calm under chaos. Then on social media, another ICU nurse casually said he could “let go” of pressure on a bleeding artery if the patient were the wrong kind of person. Another nurse recommending violence. These are people trained to protect life, now threatening it. Publicly.
It’s jarring. Not because I don’t understand anger or frustration, I do. But when people trained to preserve life start fantasizing about destroying it, something is broken. And it’s not just political. It’s spiritual.
And then there’s the Epstein files. Not just the headlines, the volume. The number of names. The nature of the accusations. The sealed records. The silence and obsession. If even half of it is true, it’s horrifying. It’s not just scandal. It’s rot. Deep, systemic rot. And we all feel it, whether we admit it or not.
Even in the Rooms
Even in AA, which should be a space of shared struggle and humility, I watched it happen. A friend, someone I looked up to, started sending political memes. One-sided. No conversation, just provocation. I replied once, not even aggressively, and he shut me out like I didn’t exist. Tried to talk after a meeting. Cold. Like I’d violated some unwritten code. And just like that, another connection gone. Because people aren’t looking for peace. They’re looking for someone they can be angry at.
I Logged Off
I don’t want to be part of that. I don’t want to live online, soaking in outrage. I don’t want to be surrounded by people who sharpen their trauma into weapons and turn every honest word into a threat.
So I’ve stepped back. I deleted my YouTube account. I removed Facebook, X, WeChat, and Reddit from every device. Logged out. Not because I have all the answers, but because I’ve had enough. Enough of the noise. Enough of the judgment. Enough of watching people destroy each other in public and private spaces while claiming they’re the ones being wronged.
If this retreat is right or wrong, I don’t know. What I do know is that anger shouldn’t have to fill every space between people. I just want quiet. I want space to breathe. To think. To be without someone else’s unresolved pain echoing in my head.
I’m not bitter. I’m just done.