I love Detoxes. I have done them all and never got tired of the concept. There is even something mystical about it: the idea of arriving at some point of exhaustion, gathering the courage to suffer a little bit and eventually finding peace in a period of self-inflicted deprivation. Sugar, coffee, dairy, tea, carbs, mere food. I have done them all. At some point I read of a make-up fast and a mirror fast and was sincerely intrigued without passing to action, though. I am frankly scared of running around without knowing what I look like. Everyone has his weak point, I guess.
One thing is deciding to go on a fast. I love that. Another one is to wake up one morning and – tada!!!! – someone tells you it’s over. You ARE on a fast. It’s what happened to me since the last time I posted. After my 50s splurge on the Amalfi coast we picked up the kids, boarded a Ryanair flight and landed in Sardinia.
We were welcomed by our landlady, a stunningly beautiful woman in her early 50s, who candidly announced that there was no wi-fi in the house. “You know, i never use the Internet when I am on holidays”, she said, looking at us with her almond-shaped blue eyes. My heart sank. My mobile data subscription had just been cut, since I had spent all of my monthly 500 MB looking for news of the royal baby on Twitter. (I find nativity plays way more entertaining than economic forecasts, what did I just write on weak points?)
So my web Detox started. I tried to catch a signal (phone wasn’t working all the time, either) in order to send one last email but it didn’t go through. There I was, in a summer paradise without any chance to communicate with the outside world.
I am a net geek. I believe the World Wide Web is the greatest invention in modern history and have been using it daily since I first digited the http:// on a university pc, back in the 90s. Cutting me from the web is like sending me on a mirror fast. I simply can’t cope.
Then the withdrawal symptoms started.
I would wake up in the middle of the night and take nervously my phone, hoping for a miracle. A glimpse of a news website. A mere minute to use WordPress. There were no surprises. I spent a whole vacation on text messages, as I had done 20 years ago. I read news on proper newspapers and went on without any late night whatsapping consolation.
I hated it.
The symptoms eased after the first week but when I got back home I needed a couple of days in the decompression chamber to return to the digital world without risks of overdosing.
I told The Husband to never do that to me again. Holidays without the Internet.
What is your worst detox nightmare?