Do I Only Exist in the Eyes of Others?: Finding a Sense of Self in Isolation
by Primcess
I can always hear my Nan’s voice in my head when I spend too long staring at my phone screen - “if you watch too much TV your eyes will go square!” It was one of those sayings you knew wasn’t true, but also somehow sparked enough caution that after the routine response of a laugh, and a “no it won’t!” - you still found yourself turning off the show you were watching and doing something else. Screen time always sparks this sort of guilt in me; the feeling of knowing there’s probably something else you should be doing...but especially this year, with all the lockdowns and restrictions, I’ve found myself repeatedly turning to my phone, computer or TV for a much needed distraction from everything going on around me.
What started as a comforting distraction in the form of watching Tik Tok videos, or wholesome interactions with friends over zoom, has now become a monotonous practice of endless scrolling; every night before bed, first thing when I wake up, and almost constantly throughout the day I find myself watching 20-second video after video, Instagram story after Instagram story, nothing quite capturing my attention for very long before I have swiped through to the next one, and the next. I feel guilty doing it, and the dry eyes, irregular sleep pattern and quite often headaches I get are a constant reminder to try and get myself back into the real world - however it’s really started to dawn on me just how much of my identity is tied in with my online presence, particularly during this year when my physical self hasn’t been able to be, well, present as much.
In one of the last pieces I wrote for Sunstroke Magazine, a good year or so ago - I was exploring how moving out and being alone for large portions of the day had helped me reconnect with myself, and start to feel alive in this small, unobserved moments: taking a bath, reading, feeding and nourishing myself. I welcomed the idea of becoming less and less reliant on my presence on social media to feel alive - however, I definitely did not expect back then the year 2020 would turn out to be. The internet has been pretty much all we had for large portions of it, and given the upheaval both emotionally and physically of living through a pandemic, I think we can all forgive ourselves for turning to a slightly unhealthy amount of screentime to keep ourselves going.
For most of my generation of mid to late 90’s kids, we can all remember first starting to post our lives online - using the first social networks, blogs and uploading our photos, writing, art and thoughts to the world wide web without really realising just how big it was going to become, or how big a role it was going to play in our lives. I first started sharing posts on Tumblr, adding in the odd original photo to the hundreds that I would reblog, dipping my toes into the idea of having an online presence. It soon scaled up to a blogspot, where I documented my life bi-weekly, and before long instagram - which as we all know, we share things more regularly than even once an hour. It crept up on me, and before I knew it, everything I did had a place to be shared, and an audience to see it. I thought for the most part that I was a willing participant, choosing freely to upload what I wanted without needing to, but during this year of isolation I have realised I might in fact be a lot deeper than I ever could have imagined.
It was one weekday morning during the second lockdown in London it really hit me; watching my housemate put a new bottle of homemade mead to ferment in the shed, then proceed to continue their project of making a new bike from scratch, I thought to myself, “hang on - they never post about these ventures online.” I couldn’t work out why - every time I create something, or pursue a new hobby, or do pretty much anything - I tend to post about it online in some form, whether that is an instagram post or photo and text to a friend or parent. Particularly in lockdown, where filling the days with these sort of activities was necessary to pass the time. It feels real when someone else knows I have done it - and therefore I can sort of relax in the knowledge I really did it, even if no one was there to physically see. I was truly fascinated at the fact my housemate could have so many skills, hobbies or talents that were purely for their own private enjoyment, and that that gave them the satisfaction it should. It then swiftly dawned on me - how long have I been living, simply through the eyes of other people?
Living through the eyes of others is not a new concept, but something I didn’t think I was doing so much in my life - but when I think about it, I really have been. When I make or do anything, I most likely will share it - what’s the point if no one will see it? But, who am I trying to make this point to? Why do I not do these things purely for me - why do I need to seek some sort of audience in order to feel like I exist? Previously, it has been assumed that this is due to our innate need for validation through likes and comments - however I have realised more and more in these months of isolation that actually, it is much more just the need to be seen.
For some people, sharing so much online can be empowering, and at times, even a lifeline. It’s such an important development in our society that people can connect to so many others, across the world, at any time - it makes the world feel smaller, helps build communities and friendships across oceans, and also is a great platform for people to create their own jobs and livelihoods independently. I think for me, it’s not the internet, or social media, that is the problem - I use both religiously to help promote my work, and am very grateful for the friends I have found online, and the education and support I have been able to find because of it’s almost infinite library of information. I think the problem for me is the dependency I now have on it - the way it has become so entwined with my sense of self, that I sometimes forget to exist as a person in the real world separately from online. I feel this need for everything I do to be seen, for me to be observed in order to feel alive. Perhaps it is just part of living in a world with an audience at the click of a button - and perhaps my fear of accepting this as normal, as ok, is just this resounding guilt I feel at being so involved with an online presence, simply because I grew up in a time where this wasn’t the norm.
I think ultimately, we have to forgive ourselves for being so reliant on social media, when it is all we’ve known for so long. Existing in a time where the internet is such a compulsory part of being a member of society, it’s hard to imagine any other reality. It also has such great power - a large amount of the internet still remains ungoverned, and there is still so much potential for using the internet for good: spreading information and awareness on important issues, educating people, and also just simply connecting people who otherwise may not have met, or might have lost touch. What perhaps really matters, instead of trying to find an identity outside of technology and away from the presence we have online, is to instead try and find a balance - a way of feeling whole both online and offline, and combining both into a fluid sense of self that encompasses both virtual and in-real-life identities that fuel and benefit each other. Existing purely online can be like shouting into a void: when you turn the computer off, the silence is deafening. Existing purely offline could mean you are missing out on some incredible connections, and such a wealth of information free for you to access. If I have learnt anything about my sense of self in isolation it’s that it has to be both - and that is actually a really exciting thing. I know for sure my Nan wouldn’t be annoyed at my hours of screen time, if she knew the power of what the internet can allow us to achieve, and the things I have been able to do by using social media as a stepping stone - although she would probably be pleased to know my eyes are not square, not just yet.