A realistic digital detox for people who live online
Chapters
2026 In: touching grass. 2026 Out: doomscrolling. If only it were that simple. As January brings with it a hefty pressure to self-better, it’s also a great moment to reflect on online habits. For anyone starting the year buried in digital clutter, a more realistic kind of detox might be the reset that actually sticks.
If, like me, you’re starting the year with 60,000 unread emails, full iCloud storage and a desktop so cluttered the screensaver barely gets a look-in, you’re in good company.
I’m usually resistant to the promises of ‘new year, new you’, but a recent house move and (pretty dramatic) physical clear-out made tackling my online space feel overdue. I’m not looking to delete Instagram or go off-grid, but I do want to reduce the low-level digital noise draining my attention, and put a few systems in place that might actually last before I add another 500 images to my camera roll.
Plus we’ve all heard the high screen-time = higher stress argument before. More recently, research has suggested something else: constant smartphone use can chip away at creativity — because staring at a screen all day leaves very little space for ideas to surface.
Rather than aiming for less screen time altogether — as a twenty-something working in media, being chronically online comes with the territory — I wanted to see what would happen if I focused on reducing friction instead: unread notifications, cluttered folders, and things constantly asking for attention. The aim was to make my online life feel calmer and more manageable, so my attention wasn’t constantly being pulled in different directions.
Why digital clutter builds up by stealth
Rarely offensive enough to get dealt with, digital clutter has a habit of disappearing into the background. It’s not loud enough to force a clear-out, but noisy enough to drain you every day. A lot of digital overwhelm isn’t about volume so much as curation – deciding what actually deserves space in front of you. Let’s be real: no one needs those old project files saved “just in case,” or 10 QR code screenshots for a parcel sent last October.
Part of what makes digital clutter so draining is how often we’re forced to look at it. Growing message counts, notification dots and half-finished files act as constant reminders that something is still pending — compounding a low-level sense of overwhelm that, for me, shows up as constant distraction and a feeling of never quite being finished.
Starting small
If the sheer scale of your digital mess makes control feel out of reach, you’re not alone — it’s usually what stops me before I’ve even started.
Professional organisers often share the same advice, arguing progress comes from starting small, not trying to fix everything at once. As Beata Kozlowski puts it: “Think of a digital cleanse like cleaning your home – start in one room, rather than trying to clean the whole house.”
She advises choosing just one area – your desktop, downloads folder or camera roll – and starting there.
As Karla puts it: “When everything has a clear place, you spend less time searching, make fewer decisions and feel more in control. That is just as true in your digital life as it is in a physical space.”
Given how much time we now spend in our digital spaces, treating them with the same care as our homes reduces the mental load we carry day to day.
But mass delete with caution…
That said, once you start clearing digital clutter, the temptation of the ‘select all – delete’ is strong.
A journalist friend recently learnt how deceptive that urge can be. If you’ve ever been tempted by a ‘select all’ moment, this is why it’s worth pausing. Overwhelmed by more than 6,000 unread emails, she started sorting – before impatience took over. “The allure of a blank slate was irresistible, so I selected all and pressed delete.”
With the short-lived joy of a clear inbox closely followed by a realisation that important contacts and documents had disappeared too, the digital cleanse turned into an admin nightmare.
Building better habits
Once I’d put a few systems in place, it became clear that clearing space was only half the work. It was time to tackle other online habits.
As someone who feels most comfortable with multiple streams of information coming at them at once, I’m not instinctively opposed to screen time. But I’ve also come to recognise that the TikTok doomscroll is where ideas go to die.
I still need something to occupy my hands. Evenings spent making something – crochet, in my case – feel noticeably calmer than those lost to double-screening.
It makes sense then, that so-called ‘cosy hobbies’ have been having a moment. From crochet and pottery to chess clubs and book groups, these slower, hands-on pursuits give your brain a break from constant input — and often come with the added bonus of real-life connection.
Illustrator, designer and content creator Olivia McEwan Hill uses crafts as a way to slow her mind without forcing herself to switch off entirely. “When I’m knitting, my brain can really relax,” she tells me. “I’m focusing on each stitch and each row, but that hyper-focused state feels calming and meditative.” What started as a solo habit has since grown into a weekly craft club with friends.
Another social creative explains how they use junk journalling as a way of rescuing moments from the digital pile-up. “We take so many photos on our phones and forget about them,” they explain. “Cutting out notes, cards or packaging and keeping them somewhere physical makes those moments feel real again.”
A reset that actually sticks
In theory, filling that space with something slower sounds appealing. In practice, it’s hard — especially when your phone is already in your hand and your brain feels fried.
It’s working against our psychology: fast, unpredictable digital input trigger short bursts of dopamine – meaning slower, offline activities can feel harder to start, even when you know they’ll make you feel better.
For me, the most useful realisation hasn’t been that I need less digital life, but that I need fewer things competing for my attention at once. A slightly calmer desktop, fewer red dots, a phone that isn’t always asking to be checked — shifts that won’t transform my life overnight, but will subtly change how they feel.
What I’m really working towards is being more tolerant of boredom — of not filling every gap, not reaching for something the moment my brain goes quiet. If a realistic detox means sitting with that discomfort a little longer and letting my attention wander, that feels far more achievable than any dramatic reset. And much more likely to last.

