Once upon a time, I was a prolific drunk-texter. Prolific. A single glass of white wine would kick it off, and the more I drank, the messier my texts would get.
I started the night with a vague idea of who would be on the receiving end: men I was sleeping with, men I wanted to sleep with, men who had once said “cute dress” in passing. Before going to bed, though, I always cleaned house. I deleted every thread like a digital crime scene. My rationale was simple: If I couldn’t reread the messages, they didn’t happen. For example, I never drunkenly Slacked my boss to say I only flossed on days when I worked from home. Never. Especially since that company didn’t really have a WFH policy. Right?
Things got more complicated about eight years ago, back when Twitter was Twitter and also good. I’m a comedian, so I threw myself into building a presence. Because I was drunk, that meant I was also drunk-tweeting. Even though I was terrified of getting canceled, I couldn’t stop, so I added a new step to my bedtime routine. Before going to sleep, I deleted every post from that day. Every single one. Unless it was going viral, obviously.
After three years of this, I quit drinking. Not to brag, but I learned I did not need alcohol to send messages I regretted. I continued to post, text, and DM with fervor. My phone was a pit of dread — a record of all my mistakes, misses, cringe encounters, and rejections — and I couldn’t find an escape from the doom.
This Email Thread Has Been Deleted For Mental Health Reasons
In 2019, I began the Sisyphean process of pitching a TV show. I did not want to pitch this TV show. But I had written a book of short satirical essays that did not remotely lend themselves to a narrative show, and I’d learned that I had a better chance of “breaking into TV” (aka making money by selling a show) with intellectual property I already owned.
With every step of the process, I hated the pitch more. But who was I, an unknown comedian, to quit something that had even the tiniest bit of momentum?
And then, in 2021, I broke. I dramatically quit the project — which was already faltering but still technically in development — abandoning the producer, production company, and my agents, all via email. I was worried I’d caused irreparable harm to my career, so I did what I do best: I deleted the evidence — at least, on my side. I got rid of every email related to it, and because that didn’t scratch the itch enough, all my other emails, too. At least a decade’s worth. And then my DMs. And my iMessages. Because I was sober, I couldn’t get sh*tfaced and wipe out the memory of my failed project, so I did the next best thing: I wiped my phone. Practically speaking. I deleted all my texts, emails, and DMs.
The deletion took three hours. And then, they were gone. The process itself was a welcome distraction. It was nostalgic to delete all my text messages manually; I remembered fondly just how many six-digit codes Bank of America sent me. I can’t scroll back through 15-year-old Facebook Messages with my college boyfriend. I’m free.
No Evidence, No Problem?
In the days after, I felt clean, like I’d just gotten a colonic. But I also felt shaky, like I’d just gotten the colonic at a kind shady place and I didn’t know if I was about to get an infection. Mostly, I felt uneasy. I didn’t know exactly what the consequences would be.
Initially, nothing happened. I didn’t delete my accounts, and I was still accessible. I felt so different, but nothing changed on the outside. At least, not right away.
In the years since, I’ve occasionally regretted the deletion. Logistically, I could have planned it better. I reasoned that everything is saved in an online portal somewhere, but that’s not quite true. Apple says you can only get deleted iMessages back within the first 30 days. If the FBI has some tricks, they haven’t shared them. I’ve also lost some old health records and professional contacts. Even though I still have my address book, I would prefer to respond to an original email chain to jog someone’s memory (especially if it’s someone I only met once). I can’t pinpoint any exact professional damage I know the deletion caused, but there’s always a chance I lost a useful email thread.
I regretted it on an emotional level, too. I once paid a sketchy online service $60 to recover a text thread between me and a past lover. I told myself it was to “get material” for a “joke,” but truthfully, I just missed him. And I wanted to relive the memories for a bit. Is that so wrong? But on the other hand, is that not why I deleted the messages in the first place — to look forward, not back?
Delete It All & Let God Sort It Out
Here’s the weirdest part: It worked. Getting hung up on the past was no longer an option, so I had no choice but to stay the course.
I never did another full purge, so I’ve built up a new digital history. But I’ve maintained the habit, or perhaps the muscle memory. If I feel even an inkling of discomfort about what I said in a conversation, I delete it immediately. It’s helpful, but also awkward. Sometimes, I have to ask someone to resend information they just texted me. They never ask why, fortunately. Also, I’m forever asking people to remind me of their addresses. But the urge to delete everything is my canary in a coal mine; if I feel it coming on, I know to be careful. Maybe the person I’m talking to or the opportunity I’m exploring just isn’t for me. If I’m on the brink of deleting everything, I stop and ask if it’s maybe just one conversation I need to cut short.
The Only Thing I’ll Never Digitally Erase
Eight months ago, I had a baby. My husband and I have a shared photo album that we update daily.
I often find myself swiping through it after she goes to bed. (Yes, I spend the two hours before bedtime desperate for her to stop screaming and sleep so I can finally get some peace. And then, the moment she’s out, I scroll through photos of her. It’s called “motherhood,” look it up!)
This album offers me what my texts, emails, and DMs no longer do: a complete history. It also forces me to admit that I’ve lost something. But what I’ve gained is much better. With no old texts to shuffle through, I can look ahead.
