For the first couple of days, it was easy. I would be in the office and would catch myself, wanting to tweet, but the app was gone, my account closed off. It would have been easy enough to log back on—I had 30 days to change my mind.
But I would pause and ask myself, did I really need to tweet about the crappy service in the office cafeteria? No. Did I need to tell everyone I was at Bluesfest? No.
As the days went on, it got easier to not be tempted to tweet.
But then, I started missing some of the things that I read on a regular basis: Ian Black's up-to-the-minute weather forecasts; breaking news; photos from my friends.
"Maybe, you just needed to get away for a while," my DW suggested. "Maybe, you need to see that you are not ruled by Twitter."
I went six days.
But when I reactivated my account, I went the whole day without sending a single tweet. I closed it down when I was working, determined not to distract myself. I still suffer from FOMO, after all.
I changed my nickname, from @RossBrownfoot to @BrownKnowser. I'm going to limit my tweets—my biggest loss was sending out notifications of new blog posts, though this is the first blog post since I announced that I quit Twitter.
So much for that.
Twitter is important to me, but I'm not going to let it monopolize my time.
Lots of people have left Twitter and come back. I remember when Canadian political journalist, Andrew Coyne, made national headlines when he walked away from Twitter. He went back.
Why can't I?