Last week was Screen Free Week, and for the first time ever,
I actually participated. A friend of mine had been trying to get me on board
for years. So, three days before it officially started, I decided to take the
plunge.
Man, talk about culture shock. My eyes opened up on Monday
morning, and I immediately began to twitch. I really didn’t know what to do
with myself. I am so accustomed to reaching for my phone first thing in the morning,
really before my eyes are even open. It started with needing to know what the
weather was going to be, then over time it progressed to Pinterest and
Facebook. I spent hours lying in bed, reading. I would spend all day, some
days, engaging in debate and argument with people who are near-strangers. I
would scour the internet for new ideas, and then carefully file them away, and
go off in search for more. It was informational bliss. The ideas, news, and
stimulation went on and on and on, until I collapsed at the end of each day.
Then I would wake up the next morning, clutch my phone in my hand, focus my
eyes, and start all over again. All of a sudden, Monday morning, all of that
stimulation was gone, and the only thing left was… me.
I immediately started to panic. Then, slowly, softly, came
the realization that I was uncomfortable with my own thoughts. The whirlwind in
my head came to a screeching halt, and I thought, “Hmmm, that’s interesting.”
And so I made myself lie there for a while, on that first morning, and just
watched my thoughts go by.
When I finally got up and came downstairs, the first thing I
realized was that I was up hours
before my usual time. I was up so much earlier, in fact, that I received funny
looks from everyone, right from my husband, down on through the dog. So, I made
myself a cup of tea, and sat down in my chair. And I did NOT turn the
television on. My winter habit had been to sit down, have a cup of tea, and
watch a documentary or a TED talk while knitting. Well, it had been such a long
cold winter and spring, I realized that now I don’t know what else to do with
myself. I left my tablet and phone upstairs, so even my usual forms of
entertainment without the TV were not available. I wasn’t awake enough to read
my book, or knit something complicated enough to hold my attention. And there I
sat, without a clue what to do with myself. Pretty embarrassing, eh? Screen
Free Week. Right. I can do this.
As I sat there, I realized a few things. The first was that
my house was a disaster area. There’s always a certain amount of fur on the
floor, what with five cats, a dog, and it being spring. They start in as I am
still vacuuming, no joke. But this was a bit intense. And there was… stuff, for
lack of a better word, everywhere; socks, napkins, books, papers, half-finished
projects, and things waiting to be mended. We won’t even talk about the dust. I
mean, wait a minute, didn’t I just get through with spring cleaning? How could
this possibly have escaped my notice? How is it that I didn’t see… it… oh, that’s
right, because I had been too busy looking at my phone. The other thing I
noticed right away? My favorite chair faces the wall. It’s not like I didn’t
know that, mind you. I’m not completely dense. But, the impact of such a simple
thing had never occurred to me. There is nothing to look at from my favorite
spot, except electronics. So that’s what I been doing.
Rapidly, I realized that I didn’t want to sit and stare at a
blank wall all day, so I got up and set to work on the laundry, which is my
usual Monday chore. Hours ahead of
schedule. I didn’t forget about it part-way through either, for a change. I
worked steadily through the day, had time to read my book in between folding
loads, and the end result was that ALL of the laundry was done, folded, and put
away before I went to bed. By Monday evening, I was an entire day ahead of
schedule, and I had even talked to my mother and a few friends on the phone. I was
even able to go to bed early. Whoah.
Tuesday dawned, and I got right up out of bed. Now what? Well,
the house is still a mess, I’m nice and rested, and have nothing planned. So I
spent the day cleaning the upstairs. I even cleaned out and reorganized my
closet, and put a whole bunch of clothes that had gotten too big in a box to be
put away (at least until I’m sure this weight loss is permanent). I deep
cleaned the bathroom, and reorganized the library, finding homes for all the
books that had been piling up on the desk. Wednesday, I did the ground floor,
and deep cleaned the kitchen. I found time to talk to my mother at least once a
day, and several other friends as well. I went to bed early every night, and
bounced out of bed fully rested at dawn.
By Wednesday, I realized that I had not had to raise my
voice once all week. I hadn’t lost my temper, felt grumpy, had an anxiety
attack, or even felt overwhelmed. Not once. Nor had I asked the kids to be
quiet at any time. In fact, I had encouraged their noise, games, and music. I
had even started singing to myself again, something I haven’t done in years
because I haven’t been able to stand the noise. Thursday morning, I looked
around and realized that my house was spotless, and all the laundry was done. The
weather was kind of cold and wet, so I sat and read my book all morning, and
went to my knitting group in the afternoon. It felt completely decadent.
Friday, I decided that I was going to tackle a big project
that I had been sure I would never have time for. A bit of puttering Thursday
night had left the house immaculate once more. So, I headed down to the
basement. Much like everyone else, our basement is our catch-all. And, um… I
don’t really go down there if I can help it, so, it was stacked taller than me,
with only a goat-path from the bottom of the stairs to the sliding glass doors
on the side of the house. We are talking scary
messy, here. And, it was getting kind of critical, because I really didn’t have
any room for the stuff I need to can and dehydrate over the coming summer.
There were boxes down there that I packed when I moved out
of my parents’ house, which have never been unpacked since. I have known for
years that I should just throw them out unopened, but there are family
heirlooms in there, you know, stuff that I actually want to use in my house and
give to my children. And I’m not just quite sure where my wedding photos are.
You get the idea. It took me three whole days, but I went through every single
box. I had stuff down there that I had forgotten entirely, like the sweater my
parents brought me back from Ireland, and the antique linens given to me by my
grandmother. I had stuff down there that I was sure had been lost along the
way, like my very favorite bag (sweet grass and leather, from the 1970’s), and
all of my husband’s good silk ties (which were in the bag, incidentally). I had
boxes and boxes of fabric, and yes, one with knitting stuff that somehow wound
up on the wrong side of the basement. I also had twenty-three boxes of children
and baby clothes. Yeah, that’s what I said. Twenty-three. What? Don’t look at
me like that. I meant to get around
to going through them. It was on my list. Honest. But you know, last week I had
time and space to do the really hard emotional work of cutting those
twenty-three boxes down to one. And
it is done. Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in my entire adult life, I
am unpacked and completely moved in to my house.
The upshot of all of this? My entire house, from rafters to
basement doors was clean (except the studio, you know, because of all those
extra boxes), I have a lot less stuff, and I hadn’t yelled at anyone all week.
I was not lonely, and I managed to talk to nearly everyone I knew I was going
to miss. The most astonishing thing was this; I was NOT bored. Not once, in
fact. I felt at peace, and at ease with my world and everything in it. All.
Week. I gotten up at dawn every day, rested, and with a song in my heart.
Somewhere in there, I had also worked in the garden with my daughter, and
nursed my son through the first stages of what turned out to be quite a nasty
tummy bug. I am astonished at what I accomplished. I am even more astonished
that I did not have to become a hermit in order to do it. Seriously, I even
took a day off in the middle there.
But even more than what I accomplished was the emotional
impact. Leaving all of Facebook and the internet behind made an enormous amount of room in my life. Room
for my children, husband, and most importantly, myself. We played together, not
just board games (though we certainly did a lot of that), but everything became
a game. I gave them my full attention every time they needed it, and I never
felt interrupted. At the bus stop in the morning, and upstairs one afternoon, I
started teaching the kids how to sing rounds. Chores were done swiftly and
largely without complaint, because I did not have to pry them from the
television first. Now, they don’t watch much under normal circumstances, less
than an hour a day, usually, unless I’m watching a documentary they want to
see. But it turns out that even that little bit makes a huge difference in
their disposition. There was a lot less fighting in my house than usual. The
television makes a big difference to my disposition, too, it turns out. I
turned the silly thing back on yesterday, because Jason was home from school, sick
(still, poor baby). It wasn’t long until I found myself losing my patience
again. By the end of the day, my temper had gone where the dead crabs go. And I
still had it on. I went to bed late,
and was cranky that I had to turn it off. Realizing this shocked the heck out
of me.
So here’s where we get to the hardest part of all of this. I
really don’t believe that this is something I can do in moderation. My best
intentions simply aren’t enough. The whole experience of electronic media is
overwhelmingly addictive for me. I know I’m not alone, here. It’s a huge phenomenon
right across our culture. We all know it. We even joke about it. But after the
last week… I don’t think it’s funny anymore. Social media and television
completely thwart my ability to be present in my own life. That is what they
are designed to do. My addiction to
it completely sabotages what is most important in my life, and my propensity to
dream instead of just doing is no
less destructive to myself and my family than an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
I just don’t see any argument that stands in the face of that. I know that in
the past I have used the word ‘deserve’ in conjunction with my use of
electronics. I work hard, right? I deserve a break. I deserve to watch
television. I want to keep up with my friends, and the most efficient way to do
that is Facebook. After all, no one should begrudge me that time, right? Well,
no, in fact.
Here’s what I learned last week. Without TV or Facebook, when
I am tired at the end of the day, I go to bed. If that is at 8 PM, so be it.
And it usually is. I get more sleep without electronics, and in fact, better
sleep. I am more rested, and can get way more done during the day. I also get
more done during the day because I am not spending my time arguing with acquaintances
over things that, ultimately, I really don’t care about. And let me tell you, over
the last few months, not a day had gone by without an argument on Facebook, and
usually more like three or four. I had begun to joke that the main purpose of
Facebook is to violate the basic rules of polite conversation, to wit; do not
discuss religion or politics. Also in there, is not airing your dirty laundry
in public. You know what I realized about that? Like in so much else in my life,
my grandmother and her peers knew what they were talking about. That stuff is
like rat poison in any relationship. What winds up happening is that we all
lose respect for one another, and we spend more time thinking and talking about
our differences than our similarities. Furthermore, I think that Facebook,
makes me worry more about the opinions of people I know way more than is ever
healthy. I found myself putting everything
up there, and then waiting to see who would respond. I found myself living my
life through the lens of carefully composed snippets, instead of as an organic
and dynamic whole. I started seeing other people that way, too. More than one
friendship has turned to ash over the years.
So you know what I have decided that I deserve? I deserve to
have a relationship with my children where I do not feel interrupted by them. I
deserve a clean and organized house. I deserve time to pursue my passions and
interests, instead of just reading about them. I deserve time in my garden. I
deserve to expect civility from everyone in my life. I deserve to be a civil
human being, myself. I deserve to have actual, whole, dynamic relationships
with the people I love. I deserve a social life where I communicate differently
with my nearest and dearest than I do with my acquaintances. I deserve to go to
bed when I am tired, and to wake up rested. I deserve peace and quiet. I
deserve room to experience my own thoughts. I deserve to sing. I deserve to
write.
Yes. :) <3, Wren
ReplyDeleteLOVE this!!!
ReplyDelete