When closing the door meant you were truly alone.

I’ve been thinking lately about how different it felt to be at home when I was younger.

Back then, when you shut your front door, you really shut the world out. That small act of closing it behind you felt like drawing a curtain between yourself and everything else. No one could reach you unless they phoned the landline, knocked on the door, or - imagine this - waited until the next day.

Home felt like a sanctuary, not just a place.

There was a stillness to being in your room. A quiet that wasn’t just soundless, it was peaceful, private, uninterrupted. You could stare at the ceiling for an hour and no one would know. You weren’t available. And that was perfectly normal.

Now, it’s different.

You can be in bed, in your pyjamas, and somehow still be in a heated political argument with someone in another country. You can doomscroll through a war zone while lying next to your cat. Or suddenly feel like you’re missing out on something happening a few miles away because an app told you so.

You have access to the whole world from your bedroom, and the world has access to you.

There’s something both awe-inspiring and unsettling about that. The boundary between inside and outside has blurred. The door no longer protects you from the noise, the notifications, the expectations. You have to build new boundaries, ones made not of brick and mortar, but of intention.

And that’s part of why I started The Digital Detox Club.

To recreate that feeling of safe disconnection.Of presence.Of silence that feels warm instead of anxious. Of enough-ness, right where you are.

Because sometimes, the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to shut the door... and truly switch off.

See you in the offline world...

Laura x