If there’s one thing we older millennials might be uniquely positioned to speak about, it’s how to balance living both online and off. Not only did we come of age just on the cusp of the smartphone takeover, but we were onboarded into this digital world just in time to witness a unique bookending of generational assimilation: Gen Z coming up as our very first digital natives, while Gen Xers and Baby Boomers staggered in like curious chaperones.

“If there’s one thing we older millennials might be uniquely positioned to speak about, it’s how to balance living both online and off.”

Which is to say that even if we haven’t been personally ravaged by the worst effects of the internet ourselves, we’ve certainly seen them firsthand — right alongside the most astounding, profound, and beautiful connections that such a tool can facilitate. 

Because that’s what the internet is, after all: a tool. In some cases, an essential tool — even a life-saving one. Sure, at its core, it can also be a place for us to put our weirdest, silliest, and least essential ideas (insert an Elder Millenial shout-out to Hampster Dance! And yes, that is the correct spelling), while also facilitating more essential functions, as well as nefarious and downright dangerous activities, too. That’s the nature of a tool — whatever the original intention, it’s ultimately a neutral thing in and of itself, subject to the hand that wields it. 

All this to say: I have either experienced or witnessed both very cool and very bad stuff go down, depending on how this particular tool has been used. 

But even the most well-intentioned uses of the internet can still create disruption in our lives. Whether it’s shortening our attention span, sucking up our time, exposing us to too much blue light, or any number of other side effects that staring at our phones too much has proven to cause, we all find ourselves at some point or another needing to take a step back. Depending on the flavor of that particular moment of realization, we might even feel like we need to cut off our own access to multiple apps entirely, and start fantasizing about a total off-grid reset: Delete all the profiles! Trade down for a flip phone! Invest in an actual encyclopedia set!

“It can be so tempting to start over in some romanticized revamp of a 90’s childhood summer…But practically, going fully offline would definitely be more trouble than its worth.”

I get it. It can be so tempting to start over in some romanticized revamp of a 90’s childhood summer. And I am generally all for embracing the predictable friction of having to turn my lamp on manually instead of through yet another app, or reading a physical book before bed instead of a long-form article on my phone. 

But practically, going fully offline would definitely be more trouble than it’s worth. Between my daughter’s school communication, her medical care, and all of my remote writing work, I am locked into living a hybrid life both on- and offline. And I suspect you are too. 

Which means that it’s up to us to develop a healthy self-care practice that can keep this balance in check. 

1. Do an internet use-case and life audit to find the gaps.

This is the practical step we can’t really skip, and it goes way beyond the weekly screen time report our phone sends us. Because this isn’t an audit that only reviews the time spent on our devices, but also how that use impacts us, both during and after. Equally as important is bringing our awareness to what that use is costing us in our real life, if anything at all. 

“This isn’t an audit that only reviews the time spent on our devices, but also how that use impacts us, both during and after.”

So what does such an audit look like?

I think the application is going to vary from person to person, and if spreadsheets are not your thing, I don’t think you need to go that route. The purpose of this exercise isn’t to nail the method, but to get crucial information.  

• When are you online the most? 

• What apps and sites do you use? 

• What function do those apps and sites serve?

• How do you feel when you’re using them? 

• Is it difficult to stop using them? How so?

• Is there a cost to using these apps in your real life? (Is there anything you could be doing instead? Do the effects on your mood or attention compromise real-life activities, like talking with your kids, or keeping a regular sleep schedule?)

• What do you hope to achieve from using these tools, if anything?

• What is the worst-case scenario and the best-case scenario of this digital footprint?

Whether you do this informally by simply checking in with yourself as you go throughout your day, or go the full executive function route, ideally you’ll have a more detailed and accurate sense of how your current digital life is working for you. And it’s highly likely you will also begin to see some gaps in the picture, where your current practices and aspirations are not in alignment. 

And that’s when you’re ready for the next step. 

2. Determine what the best use of each digital tool looks like for you and create the boundaries that support it.

Once upon a time, our apps and websites were quite distinct from one another. Instagram was for photos; X (neé Twitter) was for quips and hot takes; Vine (RIP) was for video; Facebook was for organizations, family, and keeping a kind of digital scrapbook of your life, etc. 

“Once upon a time, our apps and websites were quite distinct from one another.”

Now, everything kind of does the same thing. And worse, they interlink and blend so much advertising into the mix at such a frenetic pace that it’s hard not to go full zombie mode while scrolling. 

But if we’re clear on what it is we want from each platform, then we can hone and edit them until they are working for us — and not the other way around. 

For example, if Pinterest is where you go for inspiration, then take the time to tune your feed. If Instagram is where you like to see a mix of content, then get really specific about what kind of content, and ruthlessly edit your feed until it serves it to you. If TikTok kind of bums you out and makes you feel frazzled, delete it.

“If we’re clear on what it is we want from each platform, then we can hone and edit them until they are working for us — and not the other way around.”

Here’s where the boundaries come in. The number one rule about these spaces is that they are for you — what you post and what you engage with is your choice. If it’s tricky to truly be the architects of our real-life experience all the time, it’s less so in our digital worlds — you choose to follow, mute, and block what you see. You choose whether to post or to lurk. It’s your space, so they’re your rules. The boundaries you create are meant to support this.

Here are some ideas: 

• Turn off all your notifications. Engage with these platforms on your own terms in your own time. 
• Only follow accounts you want to see that serve the purpose you’ve outlined for that app. Don’t hate follow.
• Do not track your own follows and likes; in fact, turn these off completely. If seeing or not seeing comments bum you out, close these too. 
• Identify the times in your life when you can be doing something else and lock your phone in another room. 
• Take a full-day digital sabbatical once a month, or even once a week. Or have a few hours each day when you block off time to be IRL only. Give yourself a consequence for breaking these rules.
• Take a break from social media without announcing it. Come back on your own time. You don’t need to post an explanation, either. You don’t owe anyone but yourself your engagement.

These are tools you can elect to use or not, completely at your leisure. Remember: You are a person, not a brand. 

3. Hold it all loosely.

At its core, I think the secret to striking a healthy balance between living online and off is in reconciling the tension between two seemingly opposing truths: The internet is forever, and the internet isn’t real life. 

“The internet is forever, and the internet isn’t real life.”

Here’s what I mean by this:

Everything we put online stays there forever — or, is so difficult to truly delete that we might as well assume it can’t be. Whether it’s been documented and screenshot by others, or preserved in web archives like the Wayback Machine, everything we put out there often remains on company servers, in data broker databases, or in cache for years, outliving our human memories but not the digital ones. 

Forever sounds ominous, I know. And this can be the sort of deterrent to ever post anything at all online, or to cultivate a fear-based mindset that rarely helps more than it harms.

“It’s just not that important. Because the internet is not real life.”

So instead of letting the reminder that all of our college party pics are still out there, or letting the fact that anyone with the interest and the know-how could find and read our high school LiveJournal entries paralyze us with fear, remember this: It’s just not that important. Because the internet is not real life.

Back when Snapchat was something my friend group used, I remember one friend who posted almost all day, every day. It seemed really over-the-top, as if he must be spending his entire waking life glued to his phone. But whenever I was with him, I noticed that he was pretty present — he made a lot of eye contact, he was engaged in whatever we were doing, and he didn’t seem to be scrolling much at all. Instead, I noticed he would take a completely guileless selfie every so often and then, without reviewing it, put it on his feed. 

“Just post, never look back,” he said when I asked him about it. “Who cares?”

I love this attitude. Social media, in particular, is one of those places where we can so easily lose ourselves in the black hole of perception. We can all too easily forget that the image we share or the image we see is not actually real life — often, they are advertisements, or cleverly framed, or filtered, or carefully and painstakingly crafted to appear a particular way. Letting ourselves forget this can create the sort of discontent social media is famous for cultivating, and rob us of feeling connected and content with the actual life we have.

“What matters isn’t whatever you do or don’t put online, but how to mindfully apply your energy and time to what truly enriches your life, rather than depleting it.”

So if going cold turkey off-grid isn’t your thing, maybe simply treating your internet use as not all that serious is the way to go.

Am I, the person who just walked us through a fairly intense digital auditing process, now trying to convince you that none of this stuff matters very much? Yes, yes I am! Because what matters isn’t whatever you do or don’t put online, but how to mindfully apply your energy and time to what truly enriches your life, rather than depleting it. 

What matters is how the person you really are — who your loved ones know, and who you want to grow into — is using this finite time you have here on earth to make it as good as it possibly can be.

Stephanie H. Fallon is a Contributing Editor at The Good Trade. She is a writer originally from Houston, Texas and holds an MFA from the Jackson Center of Creative Writing at Hollins University. She lives with her family in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, and she is the author of Finishing Lines, where she writes about her fear of finishing, living a creative life, and (medical) motherhood. Since 2022, she has been reviewing sustainable home and lifestyle brands, fact-checking sustainability claims, and bringing her sharp editorial skills to every product review. Say hi on Instagram or on her website.