If A Girl Doesn’t Tweet In the Woods, Does She Still Exist?

Media addiction is real for all of us; it’s particularly acute for those of us who depend on partaking in “the conversation” for our livelihood. We wake up and reach for our devices first thing. What’s trending? What did the Troll in Chief say now? How can I compare something in the news to The Handmaid’s Tale? How can I mock the social justice warriors or the deplorables? Who is being accused of sexual assault today? Better yet, who isn’t? How do I continue to push my worldview on others? What witty piece of snark can I throw on the fire that consumes our modern Rome? 

My media of choice is Twitter and Twitter is the crack of social media. The high burns fast and doesn’t last long. You already want your next fix as you’re in the process of getting one. 

“Instagram is so boring.” I recently said to a friend.

“Well I suppose when you’re used to driving 700 miles per hour down the Audubon, anything else must feel –“

I cut him off, “—like a nursing home.” 

Even when it’s bad for you, you still want more. I’ve read (okay, skimmed) at least five pieces about what happens you’re your tweet goes viral. In all of the pieces the author laments how annoying it is at some point. I had a tweet go viral right after the election. It was annoying. So I deleted the tweet. Problem solved. Hence is the nature of media addiction—in none of these pieces do the authors even consider that as a solution. That would be unthinkable. 

Our desperate desire to be relevant overshadows our personal well-being. In putting ourselves out there online, we put our kids and our siblings and our spouses and parents in the line of fire of reddit trolls and psychopaths so we can get our fix, rationalizing it by telling ourselves that what we say matters. That we’re doing it for the greater good. That we’re starting the conversation, not partaking in it. That we are speaking truth to power. Being the change. Starting the revolution. Maintaining the resistance. Being a voice for the “the normals” or the oppressed. Defending free speech. Acting as a centrist force for balance. 

Whatever our noble justification may be for the day in, day out posting of our hot takes and fighting on websites that elevated an incompetent troll to president of the United States--it’s bullshit. 

Because it’s all ego. Well, most of it. Every once in awhile, something will get through that feels authentic and from the heart, but it’s rare. And when we fight online with one another, we are fighting with our collective shadow.

I know it’s all ego because I’ve been off social media for two weeks and for the first seven days I wasn’t sure I existed anymore.  Who am I when I’m not in my constant feedback loop affirming my significance? Who am I without out likes and retweets? Who am I without trolls? Who am I without companies and individuals constantly battling for my attention? It turns out, after two years of being “part of the conversation”, after drowning in representations of reality, I’m not that much. 

Probably the best things about dropping into the bubble of rustic living are the moments that feel unmediated. Nothing I’m doing or purchasing is because of what it says about me, or what it represents or how it's going to appear on social media. I’m doing things to survive and that’s it. Chopping wood and stacking it. Lighting a fire in the dark, cold morning with Black Kitty. Peeing in the woods without a phone. Having conversations with people who are present and not sharing their attention with you and the device in their hand.

I hate admitting this, but I’ve sacrificed a lot of my inner life at the altar of social media. The time I used to devote to reading or writing in my journal or meditating or writing letters or playing board games or learning a language or playing the piano or in focused conversation with another human being has been consumed with scrolling and swiping and thinking about myself, my “brand” and my ability to commodify my very essence and sell it.

It’s disgusting. And this post is a part of it because I can’t even go off the grid without feeling the need to write about it. And share it. And let everyone know what I’m thinking. Because my thoughts are important and I need you to remind me that I’m important, that I exist. I matter.