> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://gardenofbutterflies.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Day 1: I’m (practically) quitting social media. - URL: https://gardenofbutterflies.com/day-1-im-practically-quitting-social-media/ - Published: 2026-10-11T10:05:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-11-05T02:59:29.000Z - Author: Delilah It’s 9:23AM on a cool day in October. I woke up early and sadly, again, fell for the trap of opening up social media and being completely sucked in. Except this time, I came across something shocking enough that made me want to finally quit. It was a study of how screens affect children. The child cried when the parent was on their phone. Not to do basic tasks, but when the parent noticeably lost their entire attention and was essentially whisked away from reality. > [ View this post on Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/p/DdisZDhoKdE/?utm%5Fsource=ig%5Fembed&utm%5Fcampaign=loading) The third picture made me sick with myself at the thought of not making a change. This came after yesterday, when I saw a post about how children who engage in interactive screen time quite literally have less grey matter in their brains. It came after a brief conversation I had with a retail worker who I shared the grey matter study with, and she jokingly said, “I don’t care if my brain rots from doom scrolling.. but I sure won’t let my own child’s brain rot!” It came after how dystopian that joke felt, and my own self control was weak to the point that I did my fair share of doom scrolling later that evening. Honestly, it was a video of a woman in her late 40s living blissfully in a New York apartment, wildly eccentric, fully herself, and reminiscent of Phoebe from friends that even helped me achieve this realization of.. “What on earth am I doing?” I saw that picture of the child crying for her mom, and came to a realization I’ve had probably one hundred or more times before. I even remembered deleting my social media before. I remembered the wild, eccentric person I used to be, who was so unapologetically herself. I missed her. I‘ve been missing her. Except now, she’s a mom, of the sweetest baby boy that I can’t bear to be a screen zombie to. I immediately texted my husband’s phone, so I could log my thoughts into something as quickly as possible, and we could talk about this life changing realization over breakfast when he woke up. This is exactly what I typed. It’s real, and it’s raw.. and I’m sharing it, because if this helps even one person.. it’s worth it. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/71/50/7150fda1-cc3a-445d-ace3-a7c60d6cd846/content/images/2026/10/IMG_8156.jpeg) ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/71/50/7150fda1-cc3a-445d-ace3-a7c60d6cd846/content/images/2026/10/IMG_8157.jpeg) Yup, I’m really doing all of this in real time. Frankly, I was really inspired by a conversation we had the night before, about all the changes we had gone through over the recent years. The grief we have over the people we become, and unbecome.. over and over again. He said to me, in his sweet words, how the coming and unbecoming is like the transformation of a butterfly. ![brown and black butterfly on red flower](https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1601328300604-3c765315863c?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=M3wxMTc3M3wwfDF8c2VhcmNofDEwfHxCdXRCdXR0ZXJmbHklMjB0cmFuYWZvcm1pbmd8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzkxOTkwMTEzfDA&ixlib=rb-4.1.0&q=80&w=2000) Photo by [Joshua J. Cotten](https://unsplash.com/@jcotten?utm%5Fsource=ghost&utm%5Fmedium=referral&utm%5Fcampaign=api-credit) / [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?utm%5Fsource=ghost&utm%5Fmedium=referral&utm%5Fcampaign=api-credit) It touched my heart in a way I hadn’t felt in years. You see, aside from all of the distractions, we both had gone through so much life and have felt displaced before becoming parents. I felt healing in my heart again, The kind I felt when I felt so unapologetically myself before. In this moment of realization, the sobering realization of just how toxic social media is.. I remembered how good it felt when I deleted it in my earlier twenties. At a time it felt like I blossomed into a butterfly, living in the Canadian countryside, feeling the warm breeze through my hair and sun on my face while I enjoyed thoroughly the nature around me. I realized, that maybe now, I was really becoming the butterfly, and the parts of myself I longed for, and the joy of my spirit, really wasn’t lost. It had become dull from distraction, and the business of life. I also knew, that it I didn’t take action, that nothing would change. It would be a passing realization that came and went like a train. Like clockwork, until a hundred more stops. Except by then, maybe I would forget how important the mission was. As my brain started churning, I knew in my heart I had to take serious action. Sure, I could leave social media.. but for how long? I’ve done this before. The result was epic, no doubt. The clarity is wondrous. But how, this time, in a time where it’s even more addictive than it was ten years ago.. would I actually stay the course? Maybe if I shared my journey, and stayed true to the cause, I had a real, fighting chance. Plus how rewarding would it be to inspire other people along the way to do the same? To be more present, and do more of the things they love.. to become their own version of a butterfly? In all honesty, I’ve also been wanting to start a blog for ten years.. so if not know, then when? You know those moments when everything feels like it’s falling into place? Like a butterfly effect in your own life? (Pun wholeheartedly intended <3) Well, this is it. If I were to have a blog, and stay true to my cause, I want it to remind me of those beautiful moments where I am fully present. Like the moments in my childhood, where I played in the garden and got lost in the sunshine, chasing butterflies. Where time stood still, and didn’t yearn for anyone, or anything, but the moments themselves. I wanted it to be inspired by that. Desperate, to not disappoint my son, or my husband, or our growing family in the years to come.. I felt in my heart, to just take action. Stop overthinking. And quite frankly, to just start. And so, Garden of Butterflies is born. A place to remind myself of the beautiful, intricate, nourishing, and effervescent moments of life. Of how important it is to cherish them, to chase them, and make time for them and our loved ones. Because these moments we cherish, where it feels like time doesn’t exist, and we are fully and utterly connected with our reality and people around us.. really are the most precious things in life. And I can no longer bear the thought of not living a life full of them. I just can’t let my destiny or my inspiration to my child be otherwise. To become a butterfly is to go through the evolution of what we once were, to become the beautiful thing we were meant to be. I hope, in sharing my own journey, in pursuit of this process.. I can inspire some other people, to do the same. To share a quiet moment reading my evolution as I spread my own wings in a sweet new chapter. I hope this garden can grow, and that other butterflies can join me. That together, we can become anew, into better versions of the people we long to be. So, my journey starts today. You can subscribe to my newsletter, to be reminded of the Garden, and to grow more precious moments in your own life. If you want to share this with someone you care about, please do. It would mean a lot to me, and I hope we can inspire others. If you want to keep this precious something for yourself for now, that’s ok, too. Whatever will come of this, I am not sure. But my intention is to keep things simple and honest, and to cultivate so much more tenderness and simplicity in my own life and for my family. Thank you, for being here.. And welcome, to the Garden of Butterflies. ## Sign up for Garden of Butterflies A presence project. A raw, detailed journey of overcoming screen addiction, reconnecting with what matters, and cultivating more joy in daily life. Subscribe Email sent! Check your inbox to complete your signup. No spam. Unsubscribe anytime.