I started numbing at age twelve. Life hurt before that, but twelve was two after ten and a lifetime before I understood why. Fast forward nearly forty years and it seems learning is not as intuitive as I once believed. I’ve been rereading all the classic dystopian novels recently, and soma offered a little pill with big relief in Brave New World. Of course, this chemical escape was more about control and pacifying a population than a recreational drug, but the two indeed have something in common. Soma was never forced; however, it was wanted. It was welcomed as an eager surrender to blissful oblivion – “I’m breathing in the chemicals…I’m breaking in, shaping up, then checking out”.
Distraction, sedation, and instant gratification are on demand and reek of the ash of soma. It now comes in the form of glowing screens, endless scrolls, and curated algorithms that keep attentions locked and minds numb. Binge-watch, doomscroll, and swipe…all losing hours, sometimes days, to what feels like nothingness. When the discomfort bubbles up whether it be it existential dread, social unrest, or the ache of disconnection, the soma of the fingertip drowns it out.
Being numb and enjoying soma is not about addiction, rather it is the desperate cycle of opting out. It is a collective shrug in exchange for the illusion of contentment. And in a world where disconnection from nature, from each other, and from ourselves is the norm, opting out has never been easier. My social media accounts have been dark for more than a month and as I wake up, I ask myself was I self-medicating to endure the noise, or to anesthetize myself to avoid asking hard questions about the systems I live in and the life I lead? Did I trade freedom for comfort or critical thought for convenience. Did we all?
Muddled Soma 