Hibernation

The word hibernate can mean different things. By definition, it refers to sleep—but not just any sleep. Only animals truly hibernate, entering a deep state of metabolic depression where their body temperature drops, their heart rate slows, and their breathing becomes shallow. It’s their way of conserving energy during harsh winters or times when food is scarce.

Humans can’t hibernate in that way. But for me, hibernation has taken on a different meaning. I hibernate from social media. There are days when I feel overwhelmed by the never-ending flood of posts, opinions, and bad news. It creeps up on me—the negativity, the toxicity—seeping into my thoughts before I even realize it. The algorithm seems to know exactly how to feed my anxieties, showing me content that disturbs me, upsets me, and lingers in my mind long after I’ve put my phone down. I absorb that energy, and it weighs on me.

That’s why I created my own hibernation mode. I shut down my access to social media, not out of ignorance, but out of self-preservation. I’ve learned that constant exposure to online noise drains me, so I take intentional breaks. I don’t want to be glued to my screen, doom-scrolling through posts that do nothing but bring stress. Social media should be a tool—something to stay in touch with friends and family—not a black hole that consumes my time, my thoughts, and my peace of mind.

So, I set boundaries. I give myself days, sometimes even weeks, where I unplug, disconnect, and just breathe. And every time I do, I feel lighter. I feel calmer. The world becomes quieter, and I remember what it’s like to exist without the constant pull of notifications. My hibernation isn’t about escaping reality—it’s about protecting my own.