You are what you eat

How changing my online content diet changed my life

The proliferation of social media feeds has hijacked our instinct to be in the know. Not unlike food, information—once a scarce resource—is now abundant, and littered with superfluous ingredients. Perceived information sources have become the very impediments to learning and growing in intelligence. Our hearts and minds have been entirely captured by the illusion of knowledge, rather than its obtainment.

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January, 2024, I had a serious problem…

Well, I had several serious problems. For starters, I was physically out of shape. Partying and lack of exercise will lead to that outcome 10/10 times. It’s damn near impossible to maintain a clean diet and steady exercise regimen while regularly going out to bars and clubs. I felt perpetually sick.

Secondly, I was lonely and uninspired to make necessary changes. I vividly remember coming home from work on a cold, rainy evening in late-January. I spent five consecutive hours hopping from one social media feed to another. As I went to sleep, my phone clicked off but my brain clicked back on.

You know those nights when you stare at the ceiling and wonder what, really, is the point of it all? It felt like a legitimate question at the time. If I was going to inundate myself with hits of digital dopamine—one after another—well, that’s not a life worth living.

Of course I wanted to change. And I knew that aimless scrolling was a root cause of my angst. I dreamt of chucking my phone into the Mississippi River. But constantly envisioning a world where I’m consuming zero online content did nothing for me. Those thoughts felt like delusions—we live in an internet-centric world.

You don’t just ‘will’ something into existence…

Sorry (not sorry) to all the ‘manifesters’ out there—you’re full of shit. Remember the “Love me” scene in Bruce Almighty?

I reached a breaking point in February. I was compelling enough to have someone’s attention, but not compelling enough to garner romantic feelings. After five dates, she’d neither rejected nor accepted me.

It’s funny how indifference from the opposite gender can be radicalizing. Rejection? I can take it in stride and be on my merry way. Indifference? I was perplexed, and frankly insulted. As a person, am I so trivial that even after getting to know me, you’re unmoved?

The indifference stung because it wasn’t just her dismissal of me—it felt like a mirror of my own stagnation. I’d been apathetic to my own growth. Desperate for meaningful change, something had to give—and it started with me.

My intuition was to ditch the cynicism that caused me to roll my eyes at clichés. Sayings and phrases repeated by many are probably repeated for good reason. I created my own corny mantra. “Become undeniable” repeated over and over in my head (perhaps the ‘manifesters’ are actually onto something).

Though it felt profound, I had no clue, day in and day out, what becoming undeniable looked like—for me, at least. I wasn’t going to find answers on Twitter or Instagram, and certainly not on TikTok. Sure, there are personal growth pages on those platforms, but fitness and mental health influencers creep me out.

I needed depth and nuance, and I needed to trust the arbiters of the information I sought. Who do I trust? Scientists and authors.

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Change is incremental, then compounding…

I swapped out scrolling for podcasts about neuroscience and books I’d promised to read but never had the mental bandwidth for. It was such a fucking snooze at first; I was profoundly… bored. I found myself picking up my phone and subconsciously navigating in search of apps that I’d deleted. Restless and devoid of my bite-sized hits, I was determined to stay the course—and I did.

I started taking notes during podcasts, honing my ability to digest and process the information. The more I force-fed my mind with real substance, the more undeniable I felt. Tackling the challenge of maintaining focus throughout boredom left me flush with confidence. And it translated to other aspects of my life—namely, physical exercise.

I began running (slowly, at first) nearly every day. During those first few weeks, I was running with my lungs on fire. There were times when I’d stare at my shoelaces for an hour or two before finally going outside and pounding the pavement.

There’s a growing body of research on the benefits of doing things that you just don’t feel like doing. This topic is frequently discussed by Dr. Andrew Huberman, a Stanford University neuroscientist (and one of my all-time favorite podcasters):

It stands to reason why overcoming the ‘suck’ of flipping the page or listening (earnestly) to fifteen more minutes of an educational podcast had such compounding effects. Like millions of others, I’d relegated myself to being ruled by engagement algorithms. Growing desperate to learn my way into a better life, I—perhaps unsurprisingly—began to heed information as I was consuming it with intentionality.

It wasn’t a sudden transformation; it’s been a gradual shift that started with changing my content diet. From there, I built up to daily exercise and tapered my social life of ‘meeting for drinks.’ These changes have become synergistic, with each area of my life improving as I rewire how I consume information. Today I’m health-ier, and lead a more fulfilling life. Though I’m still figuring things out, I’m doing it voluntarily which is liberating.

Running has become more than just exercise—it’s a way to clear my head, push myself, and reap momentum. My podcast note-taking has progressed into journaling, which has become a way to structure my thoughts, helping me see connections I’d missed in the chaos of my old scrolling habits.

While I’m far from perfect and there are still plenty of best practices I’ve yet to adopt, I believe in the power of ‘stacking wins.’ Like building a layered cake, each success adds richness. The most satisfying results aren’t built overnight—they’re made from layers of effort, stacked over time.