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on connection
Hi friends, I gave four weeks of consistency and then no newsletter - I did say I’d post weekly-ish. Creative moods are tricky, and writing is hard. I also started a new job recently and have been adjusting to the switch-up in my schedule.
In other news, I dropped my phone a week ago. The screen did not crack, but it sporadically glitches and will eventually give out. When that happens, I will not be rushing to replace the screen or buy a new phone. An unplugging has been brewing. This must be a sign.
When I was still in London, something similar happened, but the screen went completely black. The battery died, so I could not connect to Whatsapp on my laptop. I had my phone fixed the next day. Back then, this connection device was essential. It had only been a week since I returned to London after being home for a while. The FOMO paired with sadness consumed me to need to have someone, anyone on standby.
Sitting at home for most of 2020, the annoying notification of increased weekly screen time is unsurprising. Of course, phone usage was going up. A large part of everyday social interactions was gone, and our desire to connect meant more time on our phones. The popularity of video calling apps like Houseparty showed how much we yearned for interaction IRL. The app gave us the happy hour we were missing. People popped up in unlocked rooms to feel a sense of camaraderie or revelry from a Friday night. Shots were going up, but we were clink clinking to our camera. Since last Tuesday, Bermuda has been in a Stay At Home order, and I’ve seen a couple of “Houseparty was lit last night” tweets. Finding ourselves in the same place from a year ago, what would we do without technology?
I’ve never been overly attached to my phone. Or so I thought. This year I have seen how dependent I am on it. Being the only link to my family, friends, and the rest of the world, my phone was no longer a tool to communicate but a necessity to connect.
Connection is a basic human need. Our health and happiness depend on our connections with others. Psychologist Alexander Maslow wrote (1943) that humans have five categories of conditions, and in his Hierarchy of Needs, “love and belongingness” is one of them. Intimacy through friendships, romantic partners, and family is vital to our emotional health. To feel loved and to love the people we are most connected to through acceptance, similarities, and shared experience gives a sense of belonging. These emotions tie into each other because being accepted as who you are and accepting others helps create that genuine connection.
Do we lose true connection through technology? It is a crucial component in staying connected. Life has become reliant on technology, this year especially. Strong relationships have sustained because of it, and people who haven’t spoken in years were compelled to reach out. We’ve adapted to Zoom meetings and just about every kind of virtual party. We are prioritising keeping in touch because our well-being counts on it.
Connection is not lost - it’s evolving. Finding the balance between efficiency and depth is up to the person.
Our social lives were forced into a virtual world because that was the only option. While we’ve adjusted, nothing can replace human contact. To be able to experience our senses and others fully requires physical presence. Touch releases positive hormones like oxytocin and serotonin. Sharing of energy through body language, eye contact, a slight graze, or nonverbal cues is not compensated through a pixelated screen. Due to social distance rules, we’re barely embracing each other. I cringe at the elbow bump and miss hugs.
In this period of monotony, we want to feel something, anything. The charm of living life is not something to take for granted. There is a power in setting our days, from routines to spontaneity, exploration, and chance encounters - these moments make life fulfilling. Of course, some aspects of social life are not a necessity, but they give us pleasure. I’ll live another day if I stay in the house all weekend. I can count on my hand the many times I’ve been out socially in 2021, and I do not feel ashamed about it. But not to know when or if I can have a hot girl summer is a little irksome.
What about those who are single in isolation? It's shameful to even think about this when people are experiencing extreme loss. What is a little loneliness if you still are breathing? This year has been rough on everyone, and personal feelings are subject to circumstance.
Apparently, navigating singledom in lockdown has been "dreadful" for the lonely souls without a significant other. I wouldn’t go to that extreme. The will to gratify any romantic craving has almost been obliterated. There is a misperception that every single person is longing to be in a relationship. Most are not. I have my moments but am not on a desperate pick me, choose me hunt. Sex is great, so is emotional support, desire, and intimacy. Yet, I haven’t wanted to engage actively. The desire to be seen, smitten, and in this case coveted and touched is not at the top of my connection list. Maybe I'll reserve a period of healthy emotional detachment and sexual exploration for my 30's.
For years I’ve avoided online dating. I am a hopeless romantic, so meeting someone through a right swipe is not my idea of being swept off my feet. When going out for drinks was still a thing, my friend convinced me to get Tinder. I went on three first dates in one week. It was a mix of being overzealous and not taking this too seriously. All the dates ended with a polite goodbye and no intention to see them again. I didn’t go on another Tinder date until months later. This time there was some potential and talks of a second date, but I kept shutting the dude down. One day he read all the excuses I'd gave him back to me, and that was the end of that.
Months in the pandemic, after too much series binging and boredom, I went on Tinder again. One guy suggested having a social distanced date in a park. It sounded covid safe enough, but I declined. Another wanted to go for a drive. The creepy part about the app is seeing the approximate distance you are from the other person. Just because you’re less than 10 kilometers from me does not mean I’m going in your car, six feet rule or not.
My mother reminds me that my biological clock is ticking, and she wants a grandkid; glumness ensues. I lamented to my sister that my phone is "dry." Why even have one? The hotline is not blinging, I've deleted Tinder now, and it does not go down in the DM’s. Of course, I don't have a phone for it to be a dating device, but I’m entitled to a bit of blues now and then.
The funny thing is now my phone’s sporadic flashing makes me think I’m receiving a new message - I’m not. Technology, failing me to connect even when I don’t want to.
- Chenae ♥ |
