I Tried Living Like It Was 1994 for a Week (And Accidentally Fixed My Brain)

The Last Tab

It was a Tuesday.
I had five tabs open, four apps running, and no idea why I was holding my phone.

Toby was staring out the window. I was staring at a basket I don’t remember filling with four types of oat milk.

I don’t think I was alive in that moment.
Just… responding. Clicking. Nodding. Consuming. Performing.

And then something broke.

It wasn’t a big moment. Just a quiet, dull ache — the kind of ache you only feel when your brain is tired and doesn’t know how to say so out loud.

I didn’t need more input. I needed less.
And for some reason, the year 1994 popped into my head like a VHS tape you forgot you taped over with Blind Date.

What if I went back?

Breakdown: Enter the Stupid Plan

So I made a plan. Not a clever one.
Just one simple, stubborn, unnecessarily dramatic decision:

For seven days, I would live like it was 1994.

Not “cut down on screen time.”
Not “mindful scrolling.”
I mean full blackout.

No smartphone.
No Wi-Fi.
No internet.
No streaming.
No maps.
No social media.
No notifications.
No answers.

Just me, a dumbphone, a CD player, and a growing sense that I might not survive the week.