I had a friend tell me something last week that stopped me in my tracks. She said, “I feel like I’m drowning in other people’s thoughts.”

She’s 67, retired from teaching, and spends hours each day scrolling through news apps, checking Facebook, watching YouTube videos about gardening (her passion), and texting with her grandchildren. All good things, right? Except she came to see me because she couldn’t sleep, felt anxious all the time, and realized she hadn’t actually planted anything in her garden in over a year.

“I keep learning about gardening,” she said, “but I’ve stopped doing it.”

This is the quiet theft I see in my practice every single week. The constant barrage of input—scrolling, watching, reading, consuming—is robbing us of something essential: our own lives.

The Neuroscience of Overwhelm

Here’s what’s happening in your brain when you’re constantly consuming information. Your prefrontal cortex, the part responsible for decision-making and creativity, becomes fatigued. It’s like a muscle that never gets to rest. Meanwhile, your amygdala, your brain’s alarm system, stays on high alert because news and social media are specifically designed to trigger emotional responses.

The result? You feel mentally exhausted but simultaneously wired. You can’t think clearly, but you can’t seem to stop consuming either. Your creativity—the very thing that makes life feel meaningful—shuts down completely.

And here’s the cruel irony: we often turn to our devices when we’re feeling stressed or lonely, seeking connection or distraction, but the constant input actually increases our stress and deepens our sense of isolation.

The Input-Output Imbalance

Think about your typical day. How many hours do you spend taking in information compared to putting something out into the world? Reading the news versus cooking a meal for someone you love? Watching videos about hobbies versus actually doing them? Scrolling through other people’s photos versus creating your own memories?

For most of us, the ratio is completely upside down. We’ve become consumers rather than contributors. And this matters more than we realize, especially as we age.

Research in gerontology shows that a sense of purpose and contribution is one of the strongest predictors of wellbeing in later life. When we’re constantly consuming but rarely creating or contributing, we lose that sense of purpose. We become spectators in our own lives.

What We’re Actually Losing

It’s not just hours, though those add up alarmingly fast. If you spend three hours a day on your phone and computer (and many of us spend much more), that’s over a thousand hours a year. That’s 45 full days of your life.

But the real loss runs deeper:

We’re losing our ability to be bored, which is actually when our best ideas emerge. We’re losing the quiet moments where we process our experiences and integrate them into who we are. We’re losing our capacity for deep focus, which is essential for any meaningful work. We’re losing touch with our own thoughts and feelings because we’re always tuned into someone else’s.

We’re losing sleep because blue light and mental stimulation before bed disrupt our natural circadian rhythms. We’re losing our creativity because we’re always consuming rather than creating. And perhaps most heartbreaking, we’re losing precious time with the people we love because we’re physically present but mentally absent, half-listening while checking notifications.

The Path Back to Yourself

I’m not going to tell you to throw away your phone or never watch the news again. That’s not realistic, and it’s not what I’m suggesting. But I am going to encourage you to become intentional about your relationship with input.

Start by noticing. For just three days, track your screen time without judgment. Most smartphones will do this for you. Just look at the numbers. Be honest with yourself about where your hours are going.

Then ask yourself: What am I actually getting from this? When you scroll through social media, does it genuinely make you feel connected, or does it leave you feeling vaguely anxious and inadequate? When you watch the news for an hour, do you feel informed and empowered, or overwhelmed and helpless?

Here’s a practice that could change your input-output balance. For every hour you spend consuming content, commit to spending at least 30 minutes creating or contributing something. Reading a recipe? Cook it. Watching a yoga video? Actually do the poses. Seeing photos of someone’s garden? Go outside and dig in your own dirt.

Creating Sacred Spaces

Your bedroom should be a technology-free zone. This isn’t optional if you want to sleep well. The blue light from screens suppresses melatonin production, and the mental stimulation keeps your mind racing when it should be winding down. Charge your phone in another room. Use an old-fashioned alarm clock if you need one.

Create at least one hour each day that’s completely screen-free. Maybe it’s the first hour after you wake up, before the world comes rushing in. Maybe it’s during dinner with your spouse or partner. Maybe it’s the hour before bed when you read a physical book, take a bath, or simply sit quietly with your thoughts.

I promise you, nothing on your phone is so urgent it can’t wait an hour. The world will not fall apart if you don’t check the news or your email.

The Art of Contribution

Here’s what I want you to consider: What would you like to contribute while you’re here? Not someday, not when you have more time or energy or whatever conditions you think need to be met first. Now. Today.

Maybe it’s sharing your wisdom with a younger person who needs guidance. Maybe it’s volunteering at a food bank or tutoring kids who struggle with reading. Maybe it’s finally writing down your family stories so they’re not lost. Maybe it’s tending a garden that feeds pollinators and your soul. Maybe it’s cooking meals that nourish the people you love.

These contributions don’t have to be grand or public. They just need to be yours. They need to flow from you out into the world, rather than always flowing from the world into you.

The Practice of Presence

One of my meditation teachers used to say, “You can’t be present if you’re always somewhere else.” Every time you pick up your phone while talking to someone, you’re choosing to be somewhere else. Every time you scroll through other people’s lives instead of living your own, you’re choosing to be somewhere else.

Presence is a practice, and like any practice, it gets easier the more you do it. Start small. Put your phone away during meals. Leave it at home when you take a walk. Notice the resistance this brings up. Notice the urge to check it, to fill every quiet moment with input.

That urge is important information. It’s telling you something about what you’re avoiding or what you’re seeking. Are you avoiding boredom? Loneliness? Your own thoughts? Are you seeking validation? Connection? Distraction from something uncomfortable?

Your Life Is Happening Now

I think about my friend who stopped gardening. She didn’t consciously decide to give up something she loved. It happened gradually, as more and more of her attention got pulled into the digital world. One day she looked up and realized an entire growing season had passed without her hands in the soil.

This is how it happens. This is how we lose years without noticing. Not to any one big decision, but to a thousand small surrenders of our attention and our time.

Your life is happening right now, in this moment. Not on your phone. Not in the news cycle. Not in anyone else’s carefully curated social media feed. Right here, right now, in the actual texture of your actual life.

What would it look like to claim that life back? To turn off the constant stream of input and turn toward your own experience? To spend more time creating than consuming, contributing than collecting, being present than being elsewhere?

It starts with a choice. And then another choice. And then another. Each moment is a new opportunity to decide where you want your attention to go, which really means deciding how you want to spend this one precious life you have.

The world will keep spinning without your constant monitoring. The news will still be there if you check it once a day instead of twenty times. Your friends will understand if you don’t immediately respond to every text.

But your garden? Your creativity? Your relationships? Your peace of mind? Your ability to sleep? Those things won’t wait. They require your presence, your attention, your active participation.

They require you to turn it all off and show up for your own life.