Two Minutes on Facebook. Seven on Instagram.
Why I trimmed my screens to almost nothing, and what came back.
Someone once told me, “If you want life to change, your calendar has to change.” Some words stick with you not because they sound wise, but because they shift something deep inside. That sentence did exactly that for me.
It made me take a hard look at how I was spending my days, and where my time and attention were truly going. When I did, I realized a lot of it was slipping away through screens.
The biggest change I made was trimming down how much time I spent online. I set time limits on my phone: two minutes on Facebook, just enough to check in with family and loved ones, and seven minutes on Instagram.
It may sound strict, but it’s been freeing. What I gained back wasn’t just time. It was mental quiet.
The space to think and notice again.
Most of us aren’t starved for information anymore. We are drowning in it.
When people come to me, they often think they’re seeking knowledge. But from where I sit, much of what I do is helping untangle the noise, helping separate the turbid from the pure. My work has become about helping people find clarity amid the overwhelm.
I grew up on a remote-ish island called Papua New Guinea. We didn’t even have a TV. My world was shaped by imagination and an ability to think for myself. I wasn’t influenced by cartoons or sitcoms, but by nature, by climbing trees, chasing the tide, and watching wave patterns in the ocean.
When I moved to the U.S. at sixteen, I was suddenly thrust into modern life. We lived with a family friend those first few years, and every night, everyone would gather around the TV. It felt foreign to me, but at least back then, families sat together. We had one eighteen-inch TV shared between two immigrant families. One storyteller, telling one story to all of us.
I remember feeling uneasy when someone would flip the channel to something like Jerry Springer, or a show about police chases in L.A. I don’t even remember the name of the show, but I do remember its theme song, which was “Bad Boys.” It was a strange introduction to what entertainment meant here.
Screens aren’t storytellers we gather around anymore. They’re constant companions, tiny worlds glued to our hands. The other day at Coronado Island, under a perfect Sunday sun, I watched couples and families walking side by side but staring into their phones instead of each other’s faces.
I couldn’t help but ask myself: what has our world come to?
My imagination wandered to that scene in The Matrix, where everyone is plugged into pods, their life force drained while their minds drift in illusion. No wonder people’s nervous systems are so fragile these days. Under the banner of being connected, we consume three- to fifteen-second bursts of content, the modern equivalents of Jerry Springer clips, influencer drama, and cleverly disguised ads. Drama gets eyeballs, anger fuels engagement, and somewhere in the chaos, someone whispers, “But my product is the best. You need to buy it.” There is no shortage of grifters today.
That’s why I’ve chosen to drastically reduce my time online. Most of what fills those feeds is mental junk food. It’s easy to consume, but it feeds neither the mind, body, nor spirit.
Honestly, you don’t have to do anything. But I’d invite you to reflect and ask: how much of your time do you give to others, and how much do you reserve for yourself?
We all need silence. Time to reflect, to digest, to think and form our own opinions. Time to look at our actions and ask, quietly and honestly, “Is this helping or harming?”
Yes, I call myself a canine nutritionist. I’ve learned what keeps a dog healthy and balanced. But lately, I’ve realized that what I really do isn’t just sharing knowledge. It’s helping people slow down enough to see clearly again.
Information alone doesn’t heal. I have found that spaciousness does.
And that begins with reclaiming your time, one quiet, intentional day at a time.
Watch the sunlight move across your floor. Watch your dog breathe as it naps. Watch the world change by the hour. Take care of your home, take care of what’s real, and take control of your calendar. Because that is where change begins. True, meaningful change.

Hannah Zulueta obtained her Certificate in Canine Nutrition from CASI Institute. She is also studying for her Doctorate in Acupuncture, Traditional Chinese Medicine, and Herbalism from the esteemed Pacific College of Health and Medicine. If you’re as keenly interested in health for yourself, visit her website for human health: Satori Acupuncture and Herbs.
She resides in San Diego with her three dogs, Maggie, Orbit, and Mr. Higgins.
She is available for one on one consultations. She develops evidence-based recipes that meet both NRC and AAFCO nutritional standards while integrating the therapeutic food principles of Traditional Chinese Veterinary Medicine into her formulations.
Additionally, you can find her sharing free content on Instagram.
