Practice: Eliminating Streaming Video From Our Lives

What canceling streaming taught me about my real screen addiction

On Tuesdays, I share long-form reflections on the forces that have stolen our focus. On Thursdays, I keep it short and practical—spotlighting a change I’m trying to make in my own life, why I chose it, what I’ve noticed so far, and where I’m still struggling. Then, a few months from now, I’ll follow up to let you know how it’s going.

At the beginning of July I canceled all of my streaming services.

Netflix, Hulu, Disney+, Max (or whatever it's called now), Paramount, Apple TV—all gone.

Replaced with… DVDs.

This has been surprisingly easy for my family. We weren't heavy TV watchers to begin with—a few episodes of Bluey or Go, Dog. Go! during the week, maybe a movie on the weekend. But I wanted to find out what would change if we eliminated streaming entirely.

Rediscovering the Art of Browsing

Getting started was simple—I just logged into each account and shut it down. Then came the fun part: figuring out how to actually watch movies again.

I'm lucky enough to live in a town with an honest-to-God video rental store. Walking in feels like stepping back in time—rows of physical cases, hand-written staff picks taped to the shelves, that particular smell of plastic and carpet that every video store seemed to have. When I mentioned I was looking for something good, the owner told me, "If you can't find something, just ask. The organization's a mess, but I know where everything is." And it's true—she knows all 16,000+ titles in her collection and has made better recommendations than Netflix's algorithm ever could.

There's a kind of magic in discovering something on your own, without being nudged toward whatever the algorithm wants to promote.

After I mentioned this experiment to my sister, she reminded me that public libraries still carry DVDs. The Santa Fe Public Library has thousands of titles, and we've started a new Friday afternoon ritual: the kids and I stop by the library and pick out a couple movies for the coming week. No subscription fees, no licensing headaches—just physical media you can actually hold.

(Curious about video stores near you? This delightfully nostalgic listing is the best resource I've found.)

Movie Night as Ritual

The biggest shift has been how we consume. Streaming turned movie-watching into background noise—something happening while we scrolled phones or folded laundry. The content was abundant and easy. Now it's become a proper ritual.

We make popcorn from scratch, filling the kitchen with that butter-and-salt smell. The kids argue over who gets to put the DVD in the player (there's something satisfying about sliding it in). We turn off the lights, turn up the volume, and actually watch. When it's over, that's it—no autoplay countdown pushing us toward the next episode, no algorithm learning our viewing patterns. We get up, stretch, talk about what we just saw, and move on with our lives.

Movie time is now immersive, shared. And when it's over, that's it—no autoplay, no binge.

The Unexpected Struggle

Here's what I didn't see coming: while cutting streaming was shockingly easy, it exposed my real addiction.

YouTube.

I could make the case that I learn from documentaries and draw inspiration from channels like The Spirited Man. And that's not a lie. But the deeper truth is that when I feel that tightness in my chest—that discomfort in the quiet—I reach for YouTube. I put on a familiar voice in the background so I don't have to sit alone with myself.

Streaming TV was easy to give up. YouTube is where the real algorithmic hooks are buried for me.

Cutting Netflix revealed what I already suspected: our family's relationship with TV was decently healthy. But it also revealed what I didn't want to admit: my relationship with YouTube absolutely isn't.

We may play a bit more Mario Kart than before, but even that caps out at about an hour a week. The real screen time problem isn't happening on our living room TV—it's happening on the phone in my pocket.

I do miss Bluey, though. What a great show.

What I'm Learning

One month in, this experiment has taught me that not all "screens" are created equal. There's a world of difference between intentionally choosing a movie and having content algorithmically fed to you. Physical media forces intention—you have to decide what you want to watch, go get it, and commit to the experience.

But it's also shown me where my real attention leaks are hiding. Sometimes the most successful experiments are the ones that reveal the problems you weren't looking for.