From Social Media Addict to Mindful Guide: My Journey Back

I’m Chris Toplack, recovering social media addict.

Yes, that’s a real thing. And I lived it and still currently do.

The Obsession Phase (2000s → recent years)

From the mid-2000s up until just a few years ago, I was hooked. Not on a drug, but on screens. I would doom-scroll across platform after platform, dive into every “new thing,” trying to absorb, learn, master, always ahead of the curve.

If a new platform were buzzing, I’d join it. No second thought. And I kept going.

My “habit” turned into an advantage for work. When I joined a social media intelligence startup, I had the deepest knowledge of social media in the room. I leveraged it when I built communities (The Signature Spot). But that doesn’t mean I was healthy.

I never craved the limelight. I’ve never loved selfies or making myself the center of attention. I’m private about my inner life. I post when it feels real, not when it’s performative.

Yet, I still found myself logging in every day, especially in the evening.

What Fueled the Trap

FOMO, but not exactly what people think. Sure, fear of missing out played a role, but there was more to it:

• I wanted to stay connected to the causes, businesses, and movements I cared about.

• I wanted to see updates from colleagues, friends, organizations, and not be out of the loop.

• I believed (naively) I could use these tools strictly for positive community, meaningful dialogue, and value exchange.

But the system is designed to pull you in.

I tried not to let algorithms decide when I should comment, reach out, respond. Still, there were blind spots. We all have them. I sure do.

What started as optimism, “I can use social media for good,” morphed into mental fatigue. The content, the pace, the emotional curve, it exhausts you.

Yes, I told myself I leaned into the positive, real dialogue, useful insights, and connection, but biologically, I was likely chasing a dopamine hit.

Not from the likes, not from the notifications, not even from monetization. The hit came when an organization I respected posted something thought-provoking or meaningful. My brain lit up. It craved that again.

“Oh, damn, this is new to me.”

I never overshared. Even with big announcements, like my son’s birth, I kept it tight, genuine. No staged photo shoots. Nothing on social media during my wife’s pregnancy. That’s always been me.

But over time, something shifted.

When the Dark Side Arrived

I began to see more negativity in my feeds. Polarized opinions, misinformation, and people arguing to be heard rather than to listen. I saw people striving to “be the main character.” The ideal of connection soured.

I still love what social media can be. Real connection, dialogue, shared learning, and inspiration. It’s wild that in one hand we hold the possibility to access global ideas instantly, something that felt impossible 30 years ago.

But when it becomes doom scrolling, echo chambers, algorithmic manipulation, or a place where people position themselves for visibility, it no longer serves you. It exploits.

The algorithms are not neutral. They borrow techniques from gambling (slot machines), using variable rewards, novelty, and unpredictability. They learn what grabs you and feed it to you. You end up playing a game you didn’t sign up to be part of. (Read the terms and conditions)

What the Science Says (Yes, There Is Science)

I wanted this blog to carry weight, not just emotion or my own brain droppings (there you are again, George Carlin). Here’s a sampling of what research backs this stuff:

• Social media usage activates the brain’s reward circuitry, dopamine pathways, similar to substances of abuse. Stanford Medicine

• The “variable reward schedule,” the idea that you don’t know which post will delight or offend, is a huge driver of repeated checking. UND Scholarly Commons

• Studies show “problematic social media use” is akin to behavioural addiction: loss of control, increasing tolerance, withdrawal symptoms, and negative consequences. PMC

• Algorithms intensify reinforcement loops by customizing content unique to each user’s behaviour. ReachMD

• “Doomscrolling” is real. A compulsive habit of consuming negative news, driven by dopamine and algorithmic feedback. orillia-computer.ca

These articles made me feel less alone or crazy. Maybe both.

How I Pulled Back (And Still Pull Back)

This isn’t a perfect walk in the park. But these are what helped me begin to regain control:

1. Awareness & tracking
   I first had to see how often I was actually logging in, swiping, and enduring mental loops. No judgment. Just data. Trust me, I hated what I saw.

2. Set guardrails, not bans
   I didn’t obliterate social media. Instead, I created boundaries: “No apps after 9 pm.” “Check meaningful accounts consciously.” Notifications are off by default.

3. Replace with real-world stimulus
   When I felt the itch, I’d switch to reading one of the many books I have available, walking, spending time with my son, or calling a friend. I leaned into real dopamine. Human voices, physical movement, creation. Sometimes, just listening to others is all I need.

4. Mindful use over mindless scrolling
   Before jumping into an app, I pause: What the hell am I going there for? What will I do when I’m done? That pause buys me a little extra clarity. I doubt 25-year-old Chris would have understood it.

5. Community accountability
   I talk with people about it. Fellow creators, friends, family. When you vocalize it, you're less likely to slip into secret rabbit holes. “Should I just deactivate my accounts?”

6. Reinforce the positive, cut the negative
   I’m picky now. I follow accounts that elevate, inform, uplift. I unfollow or mute ones that spiral into negativity or chaos. I spend no energy on it.

7. Accept backsliding
   Sometimes I overshoot. Sometimes I doom scroll again. I don’t torch myself. I reset. The goal is more about direction than perfection. Plus, perfection is merely a figment of our imagination.

The Invitation

If you read this far, you probably see yourself in parts of my story. Maybe you’ve felt it, too. The undeniable pull, the fatigue, the guilt, the anxiety.

I’m not here to shame. Trust me, I would shame myself first and have. I’m here to share that there is a path back to mindful use. To help and break cycles. It’s not easy to avoid temptations.

I’m guilty of not finding one definitive avenue to share my reflections, what’s changing, what bugs me, what new guardrails I’m testing, but it should be here, right? I’ll also publish the research, the books I’m reading, and the experiments I run (digital detoxes, minimal apps, etc.). I want transparency, not perfection.

Let’s re-find the threads of real connection, meaningful dialogue, shared learning, and not let algorithms be the puppeteers.