How do we stay connected?

Why I will always prefer seeing your face and hearing your voice

Earlier this week, I went up to drop off some exam essentials for Z. I got the unexpected treat of a hungry young man with time for dinner. He offered information about his upcoming exam schedule and the other projects and papers he had due before he comes home next week. (For almost a month!) He was also full of information about a campaign he is designing for an online gaming community in which he and his friends have leadership positions. He has talked with me about this before with great excitement. I admit that I don’t fully understand, having never done any online gaming except silly word games on my phone. I have noticed in my conversations with him lately that I have a pull to hear about in-person interactions. That I am mentally prioritizing information about his interactions and friendships with people at college that include face-to-face connection. Although I don’t think I have communicated this to him, it made me consider why this is.

I have always valued connection and friendship. My dissertation research was on the role of family and friends in helping a woman leave a violent relationship. I know that our connection with each other is what gets us through the hard things we face as humans—from cancer treatment to losing a loved one to leaving bad relationships to caring for ill family members to just managing the day-to-day stress of life. When I am struggling, my first instinct is to reach out to a close friend and talk through what is hard. I am grateful that I have people in my life to whom I can reach out, that I know will be there.

For me, the preferred mode of communication is in person. Talking through hard things on a walk or in a coffee shop or each other’s kitchen always reduces the temperature and helps provide a more objective lens to the challenge ahead. When that isn’t available, a phone call can do the same. My least preferred mode of communication is text. Texting is great for setting up that walk or even phone call, but other than that, I would return to a world before smart phones in a heartbeat if that was possible. Despite my objection, however, I live in a world that seems to be run by smart phones, where important news is shared via group text and opting out of the electronic world is relatively impossible. And I have weeks, such as last week, when I feel caught between feeling the emptiness of text and the hunger for the fullness of in-person connection. I want to see people, to talk in person, but often find that people can’t or don’t want to get together, leaving most communication via text.

A few weeks ago, I read a piece by Rosie Spinks on how hard it has been to connect with friends in this post-pandemic world.

The friendship problem

So is it really any wonder that we might not be inclined to text our friend back about that plan four Thursdays from now, in between consuming images of genocide presented without any context or verifiable information, while trying to order dinner on our phone, and answer a Slack message after hours? 

I feel like I say this all the time, but it bears repeating: Our brains were simply not designed to operate this way. The oft-cited Dunbar’s number — that our brains have a cognitive upper limit of about 150 relationships we can actively maintain — can easily be maxed out by a morning Instagram scroll and answering your email and WhatsApps. 

And there, I think, lies the crux of the friendship problem: We are so burned out by the process of staying afloat in a globalized, connected world that we simply don’t have the energy for the kinds of in-person, easy interactions that might actually give us some energy and lifeforce back. 

~Rosie Spinks

I resonated particularly with that middle paragraph—

Our brains were simply not designed to operate this way…[the number of relationships we can actively maintain] can be easily maxed out by a morning of [electronic media and messaging].

I try, harder at some times than others, to really limit the amount of connection space I use up with social media. I focus on things I can read rather than audio or video clips, as I feel like I have more control over what comes in when I read. I find most time spent on my phone, whether aimlessly scrolling or reading through the dozens of texts I’ve missed while working, to be empty at best and anxiety-producing at worst. It almost never brings me any sense of replenishment or connection. It is like consuming a bag of potato chips. You can quickly eat more than you realize, but the chips don’t offer anything except a guilty binge. They are devoid of substance and nutrition. And add things you probably don’t want or need to your body.

So this, I am sure, is why I am listening for in-person connections when I talk with Z. For me, digital communication is largely disappointing. Often, I don’t find connection in a text or a post. As with so many things, however, I have to remind myself that Z is a different person than I am. His electronic presence is very different than mine. He spends almost no time on social media. His interactions with friends are generally while playing games, (at least they were when he lived at home). They talk with each other over their headsets while playing, so probably are closer to the three-way calling I was so excited to get as a teenager. He does use text and group texts, and generally, when he is in the car with me, he is quickly typing responses to people.

As with so many things, I have to catch myself trying to apply my own experience to his. Does it make sense? Is it applicable? And most importantly, I remind myself that he is forging his own path. Unless he asks, these aren’t my decisions to make or even comment on anymore. He grew up in a world very different from my own. While I am constantly trying to reconcile my prepandemic life with this postpandemic reality, he may not be doing this. Time is a different thing when you are a teenager. The difference between his life as a freshmen in high school, when COVID started and the life he partially re-entered as a sophomore and then more fully as a junior was going to be vast, even without the backdrop of a pandemic.

So, when he comes home in a few days (less than 48 hours, not that I’m counting), I am going to focus on listening to what he offers and not inserting my own struggles or values around connection. From all data points I have, both objective and subjective, he is doing just great at college. And that is what really matters.

Have I said how much I love this boy and his brothers?

As much as is humanly possible.

All photos were taken by the exceptional Dana Giuliana, unless otherwise noted.