Emily Articulated: Analog era

By Emily Erickson
Reader Staff

After the Nov. 5 election, I felt an overwhelming need to disconnect — from the celebratory posts of those aligned with the victors and the relentless buzz of speculation, bad news and general malaise. It built in my mind like mounting pressure, so deafening that I nearly fumbled my phone in my rush to delete the apps feeding my distress.

I hit the “x” on my Instagram and Facebook mobile apps (Twitter found the wastebasket back in 2012), and luckily, I’d never downloaded TikTok in the first place — opting instead to watch outdated videos on Instagram like the Millennial I am.

Over the past eight years, my screen time and media consumption have crept up like something happening to me rather than something I controlled. The first Trump administration seemed to demand daily diligence to stay informed, and the COVID-19 pandemic fostered survival habits far more pervasive than masking or vaccinations.

Hours formerly spent quietly listening to music, reading or zoning out entirely were replaced by a near-constant stream of podcasts (because letting my stream of consciousness run wild, ruminating on every unprecedented event, personal hardship and existential threat was too daunting).

Emily Erickson. Courtesy photo.

I turned to news-as-entertainment streams alongside countless Americans who stacked shows like The Daily, The Run-Up and Today, Explained into their daily routines. My brain, meant to relax and process the day’s events, instead absorbed an unending barrage of information. It felt like trying to overstuff a too-small pillow, the excess spilling out in unprocessed thoughts and emotions. But the moment I deleted my easy access to media, I felt near-instant relief.

I’m not writing this to pat myself on the back or mimic those self-congratulatory declarations about taking a break from social media, only to pop back online to check how many likes and comments their announcement received. I thought I was modestly conscious of my phone use, setting timers and app use limits, yet I still underestimated its hold on me.

Going nearly “cold turkey” was the only way to realize how pervasive it all was.

This epiphany reminded me of the convenience food craze of the 1950s and ’60s when post-war canned and pre-made foods swept across the United States. This revolution in consumption dramatically altered our relationship with food while offering real benefits — especially for women, who saved countless hours in the kitchen and gained time to join clubs, pursue careers and expand their worlds.

As the National Women’s History Museum noted, “Even as marketing touted the kitchen as a woman’s special domain, technology gradually reduced the amount of time she needed to spend there.”

We embraced convenience, clinging on to the positives while turning a blind eye to the side effects. Today, 73% of food in American grocery stores is classified as ultra-processed — far removed from anything replicable in a home kitchen. Meanwhile, obesity rates have soared from 10% in the 1940s to 43% today.

Likewise, we’ve clung to the advantages of our devices — instant connection, real-time global updates and an endless stream of engaging content (some well-crafted, some wholly addictive) — while largely ignoring their toll. Anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges have surged to epidemic levels, paralleling the convenience food era’s unintended consequences.

Psychiatric Research & Clinical Practice explains this well: “The prevalence of mental health issues among U.S. adolescents and young adults began to rise in the early 2010s … with a growing consensus that these trends may be connected to the rise in technology use. Increased digital media and smartphone use may influence mental health via several mechanisms, including displacement of time spent in in-person social interactions; disruption of in-person social interactions; interference with sleep time and quality; cyberbullying and toxic online environments; and online contagion.”

As with the convenience food craze, we’ve welcomed the benefits of constant connectivity while ignoring the toll it takes on our emotional and mental well-being, leaving many of us overfed with information but undernourished in connection and introspection.

These days, I’ve been joking that I’m in my “Analog Era.” I’ve subscribed to a paper newspaper, which I read at my leisure, often with a crackling fire as ambiance. I’ve enrolled in a painting class, started writing more and prioritized regularly checking in with friends and family. I’m steering away from the TV dinner versions of the things I crave — connection, community and inspiration — and instead savoring the real thing. For now, and for a while, the only thing I’m tuning into is myself.

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.