I wrote this a couple of years ago during the pandemic. Although my screen time is much better these days, there is so much that still resonates with me. I wonder if you relate to this…

It was late in the evening and, although my girls were in bed, I felt restless because I knew they were not asleep. They could possibly have been sneaking back onto their own screens under the cover of darkness once my back was turned! I headed down the stairs of our home with heavy steps falling on the worn carpet, the weight of exhaustion upon me because I knew that awaiting me was an empty ground floor and a washing up sink overflowing with dirty dishes. As usual, as I walked into the kitchen, before I had a minute to think about what needed to be done, my hand instinctively reached for my mobile phone and subconsciously my mind longed for some connection.

That evening I flicked first into my emails, an act that previously depressed me because it reminded me about how little time I had made for checking the new emails that had landed throughout the day in my account, let alone the hundreds of unread messages that had backed up. I realised that I was stood looking at the seemingly endless inbox wishing I had either replied to emails straight away or unsubscribed from the unwanted newsletters to stop the number in the little red circle above the envelope icon forever increasing.

Still seeking something, I clicked into Facebook and checked the outstanding notifications. The lure of shiny new things continued to entice me away from the awaiting housework and remnants of supper that need to be cleared up. Having exhausted the unread posts, I found myself automatically scrolling through the Facebook main feed, looking at everyone else’s pretty pictures and supposedly perfect and wonderfully social lives. As the screen rolled down the joy of life drained out of me as a feeling of loneliness grew like a looming storm cloud.

Thirty minutes went by and a dull ache in my feet and across my lower back reminded me that I was still hovering in the kitchen. I had not sat down! Nevertheless, my social media hunt moved on to LinkedIn and Twitter, where I made sure that there were no personal messages. Finally, I rested in my Instagram app, somewhere that became my happy place after my husband died. I could scroll away hours of time in a world of pretty pictures and inspirational quotes, but reluctantly I realised that I had lost a chunk of time that I would never get back … and I was still standing in the kitchen with my phone attached to the wall by the white charger cable! The cluttered sides and dirty dishes needed my attention.

Instead of making myself a cuppa and cuddling up with our cute and fluffy dog, I had done nothing before I reached for my phone. I had automatically reached for the small device and my tired body had stood, uncomfortably whilst I fell down the “scroll hole” of social media. I knew that it was not an enjoyable way to consume that content, at yet I was compelled by an addiction that I had to my phone. I knew deep down that anyone important would telephone me or send a personal message. Yet I had become fixated on the communication through the endless apps within the little digital device in my hand.

It dawned on me as I listened to the physical pain in my body that the thing I was avoiding was the fact that I was deeply lonely. I was not alone, but my soulmate and best friend was dead. Our children are young and I spent every evening doing the same household routine. The one person I wanted was my husband, the man who had been my rock, but who had died over four years before.

Despite living through such painful grief that still at times threatens to wipe me out, I yearned for a magical message from my late husband. He used to work away so much that I expected that banter through technology. A penny dropped that the real reason my phone was the first thing I reached for is because I was searching for human connection.

I know the oxygen mask analogy and I have heard so many times that I need to look after myself in order to look after the children, but my default setting used to be to keep busy. As I learnt to slow down the silence screamed at me and the irony is that social media can be an important way of linking up with others. What I have learnt over the years is that I need to be kinder to myself about where and when I use it.

Over the past two years, my experiences have shown me that it is far more pleasurable if I pause and prioritise what I need to do. These days I now do the washing up and laundry before turning my attention to my own TLC (tender loving care). These days I am more inclined to make myself a cup of restorative tea and once I have a warm mug cupped in my hands, I wrap myself in a blanket on a comfy sofa, snuggle up to our cute dog and consciously enjoy scrolling through my phone. Alternatively, I acknowledge whether the phone is not what I need and instead I make myself a bottle of squash and head into my cosy study to sit at our old-fashioned desk and there I write content that I hope someday might help others.

Emma’s thoughts…

Some things that I learnt that helped me:

Identify what it is that social media gives you: Is it the interactive aspect that you enjoy? In which case, you get out of it what you put into it… and if you comment and react to other people’s posts you might find you have conversations, after-all… it is called “social” media.
Be mindful of the time you spend scrolling: Put a time limit or set an alarm, so that you can get a fix of randomly scrolling without mistakenly loosing too much time.
Prioritise social media amongst the rest of your life: Are there things that need to be done: kids school bags, washing up and laundry? If so, focus on those before picking up your phone.
Make it a treat: Rather than scrolling whilst cooking dinner or avoiding the chores, be mindful about doing your jobs before making a cuppa and finding a comfy seat, and that way you might be able to make time on your phone more of a treat.
We are human beings who are intrinsically social: Connection is important, so don’t feel guilty about enjoying social media.
There is no rule book: Social media means different things to different people – your way is likely to be the right way for you.
“It’s a dialogue and not a monologue, and some people don’t understand that. Social media is more like a telephone than a television.”
- Amy Jo Martin