It was a sunny Sunday morning when I marched into our small living room and announced, with great conviction, that we were subscribing to newspapers. My boys, well-accustomed to my sudden bursts of enthusiasm, barely looked up. After all, they’d seen it all—my ambitious declaration of going pescetarian (which lasted about a week) and my bold vow to never fall for sales again (spoiler: I fell).

But this time, I was fueled by a sense of urgency unlike any other—a desperate need to escape social media.

I used to believe I could handle the pressures of being online. I knew, intellectually, that social media was a carefully curated highlight reel of life, designed to project perfection. And yet, somehow, I still found myself feeling… less than. I’d scroll through accounts of wildly successful women with their perfectly coiffed hair and manicured nails, their glistening hands adorned with fine jewelry and watches worth more than my life savings—all while making tacos. Tacos! A messy, sauce-dripping meal that demands unceremonious bites and stained napkins. But these women? They somehow made eating a burrito look like a Vogue cover shoot.

On the other end of the spectrum, there was the endless barrage of doom and gloom from news outlets, legitimate and otherwise, about the world’s impending collapse. Everything was toxic, and every effort to save the planet felt futile. Despite the overwhelm, I’d spend hours scrolling late into the night, long after my work was done, as though I were searching for something I couldn’t name.

“So, are you quitting social media? Don’t you need it for your job?” my husband asked skeptically. I met his gaze and, with dramatic flair, replied, “Savannah, slow down." He blinked in confusion, clearly not in on the reference. After a brief pause, he simply sighed and nodded in reluctant surrender (bless his TikTokless heart).

Now, it’s been a little over a month since my social media detox, and I’m happy to report that my mental health has never been better. I never got around to getting that newspaper subscription but downloading an OffScreen app and going for periodic walks without my phone helped A LOT. 

Without the relentless flood of notifications and endless scrolling, I can engage with the news at my own pace, focusing on stories that matter without the noise and distractions of trending drama or doom-laden headlines. It feels refreshing to take back control of how I consume information, and in doing so, I’ve carved out more space for clarity and peace of mind.

While February is traditionally about love, this month’s issue of PULSE is celebrating all forms of it. For me, love meant putting myself first by taking care of my mental health and reminding myself that I am enough. In this issue, we’re sharing simple ways to love yourself, whether it’s indulging in a favorite hobby, watching movies that warm your heart, or spreading joy to those around you.

And just like our cover feature, Kelvin, whose love for his craft led him to discover his true purpose, we hope you find inspiration to nurture the things that matter most to you.

Whatever it is you’re struggling to love this month—yourself, your work, or even the chaos of life—I hope this issue helps you find your way. After all, love begins with intention and a whole lot of heart.