On what's been lost

On the evolution of social media to image saturation and when we stopped saying what we really wanted to say.

It has been an interesting journey coming back to writing and to blogging. I’m uncovering things I didn’t realise I had buried. For example, I used to tell myself I stopped writing because it didn’t matter anymore and because I didn’t have time. Neither of those things were true. In my early 20’s I used to be an avid blogger. I even fell in love with an ex partner through that shared world of words. Somewhere along the line those Tumblr anon’s melted into something else. She witnessed me in a way that she wouldn’t have otherwise. She witnessed something inside of me that I didn’t let slip in easy conversation. She knew how I thought, what I thought about things, the things that made me feel. Together we built a level of intimacy that could only be found through words.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

I used to think I had things to say. Really, I think there was a time we all did. Even Facebook status’ a decade or so ago afforded deeper insight into our psyche, even instagram where we used to post unpolished photos of the things we loved, the moments that moved us - unfiltered, raw, slightly blurry.

The image revolution slowly overtook us. Suddenly, everyone was an influencer. Or trying to be. Filtered images, augmented lighting, “candid” but highly manufactured photos became the norm. Everybody living their best, most curated lives in perfect lighting. I have no gripe with images. I enjoy them even. We drifted from sharing our thoughts - quietly, collectively, until silence became the norm. From our thoughts on politics, to updates on what happened at work, to our half formed thoughts, perspectives and insights that generated meaningful conversation, that harboured connections. We stopped posting words because it felt too much. We never talked about it - we just slowly faded out. I went from an active social media poster to slowly forgetting my blog passwords, to eventually not speaking.

Photo by Adeolu Eletu on Unsplash

I can’t really say when this happened, or why. I have some vague ideas, like maybe writing doesn’t sell things the way an image does. We adjusted to a fast paced world of gratification, of saturation. I only know that slowly, over time, the culture changed and our thoughts stopped getting “likes”, that maybe us millennials said too much in 2012 and so as penance we all stopped saying anything at all. I just know that I’ve missed it. In fact, I’ve missed it desperately. I’ve missed the era of knowing the minutiae of a life. What people thought about everything from world events, to tv series, to sunrises, to art.

It’s a loss I’ve never really named. I know there are other corners of the internet where people kept writing, kept connecting. I don’t know why I didn’t join them before. I think, from where I was sitting, I felt like the culture just changed. That the people engaging in the discourse had some kind of qualification, some sort of permission. I only wanted to share my half-formed thoughts like we used to, to laugh, to connect, even to have a passionate debate.

I’m still rusty being back here. There’s a new kind of vulnerability in sharing like this - but I’m leaning into it. I think that showing up has become a discipline, a practice, a quiet leaning into the prospect of being judged - being told you don’t have anything to say. That’s what stopped me, really. It wasn’t time, it wasn’t being cringe. It was the fear of not having anything to say. And of nobody listening.

Its been healing coming here. In ways that are both small and significant. I’m reading about people’s experiences, their grief, their loss, their first kiss. A quiet reminder that people are still here. Still talking. Still sharing.

I can feel the anxiety now as I am about to hit post. That’s all part of the challenge. I’m holding space for all the visceral cringe I’ve been conditioned to feel when saying something, even when saying nothing at all - even when speaking. My hope is that in time I will grow courage, discipline, I might even muster up the courage to re-read what I’ve read. Maybe, quietly, I might be able to share things that really need to be said.

Photo by Hannah Olinger on Unsplash

I don’t know where this leads yet, but I’m grateful you’re here.

Follow along if you would like to be part of the journey and the witnessing.