The Dichotomy of Connection

Of course, every major life change comes with its share of perspective shifts - that’s to be expected. So I knew I’d learn some things about myself after the birth of my first child, but what really and truly surprised me was how much internet scrolling you do in the wee hours while trying to stay awake and produce milk for a helpless newbie human. And, really, how can you not? You need something to engage your mind and our cultural attachment to our phones is a physical one, it’s essentially a part of us. But then, it’s not. It belongs to us, but it’s not a part of us.

The mewling, squishy, doe-eyed, baby in my lap: she was a part of me. As in, I made her. I made her bones and blood and skin and organs… her organs for chrissakes! And here I was making milk out of nothing to keep her growing and satiated. But my attention was turned toward my phone out of necessity. My work lives there, my friends live there, and my family contacts me there - it’s part of me, right?

After many, many months of reflection on this, I’m thinking that maybe (just maybe) my phone is not a part of me. Maybe I’m capable of a deeper connection with the human race than double-tap approvals and pithy hashtag piggybacking. Maybe my phone and the social media that lives therein don’t connect me so much as isolate me. Maybe it distracts me from all that I’m capable of just by turning my attention to existing in the world beyond the reaches of my fingertips.

Plus, the fact remains, I despise being sold to. Honestly, you could develop a product that would be my literal salvation and the moment a well oiled salesman came to regale me with the benefits of this new product I’d fling myself upon the Devil himself. I want NOTHING to do with your sales pitch. But it’s so insidious now - it’s an instagram story or related to your last google search, so it was already top of mind. In fact, it’s as if you manifested this product’s advert placement in your life yourself…maybe you did…maybe this is The Secret finally showing up to work in your own life…

Or maybe someone knows your demographic and location and you don’t really need Billie Razors, thank you very much. My vision board is not packed with photos of things shoddily made that I can waste my money on, but dang do they want me to think that some Hers supplements is the bridge between my life and that of an island hopping influencer with nary a care in the world. So, I’m doing it - I’m putting my proverbial money where my proverbial mouth is and phasing social media out of my life. It’s slow going, but already I realize how little I cared about the things I posted - I only cared about what I thought people might see in me. And, boy, if they could see me now! I’m gross! There is spit up on my person at all times. My hair is never fully washed and my boobs are out all the time and chewed within an inch of their lives. Sweatpants are my only friend, my hormones are making my hair fall out, and my skin is so blotchy and flaky I’ve thrown every moisturizer I own away because fuck it.

In short, I am not fit for general public consumption.

I’m more than fit for private, bespoke consumption, though. In fact, that’s what my kid and I spent those early months mastering: the art of consuming and being consumed. No one hits a “like” button and there are no flame emojis distractedly directed at me to buoy my self-confidence, but I worry less and my brain moves more quickly than when it’s belied by the opinions and thoughts of everyone I’ve ever met. As in all things, I’m not attacking this perfectly. I still scroll Instagram daily, I swipe up on ads, and I get pulled down the rabbit hole of what the internet at large wants to show me, but I’m more aware of it now than I was before and that’s making all the difference. I’m able to see my weekly screen time reports plummet and I know that I’m giving the life I’m an active participant in more of my energy. My husband isn’t giving me a constant thumbs up, nor is my child liberal with the flame emojis (she’s only so dexterous at this stage, to be fair) but I’m finding validation is one of those things found in abundance the moment it ceases being chased.