digital (and spiritual) self-preservation in a Covid-19 world

Over the past several months, some of my social connections have struggled. Or, should I say, my perception of how social mores have changed has… well, changed. I know I am not alone in this. Covid-19 has had a way of reflecting back on us the things that are both important and more inconsequential now.

My inner critic has started to ask (or rather, demand) why my inclination toward virtual gatherings and socially-distanced hangouts have begun to slowly whittle into dust. At first, my brain accepted the excuses I’d give it. But, as time went on, I found myself in a confusing flurry of mixed emotions -  anger, frustration, boredom that feels like a slow, painful torture, loneliness, apathy, sadness, depression. 

But, as the laws of duality tell us, it’s not all darkness and shadow work. There are more positive emotions present here, too - things like deep, exalted relief from the constructs of unrelenting capitalism, and bubbling gratitude for more rest and time to myself. 

These are the areas I’m focusing on and working through, but admittedly, it is hard. 

There are parts of me that feel a deep sense of ennui about sharing mundane parts of my life this year online - “normally” (and I use that word lightly, because “normal” is a construct), I have fewer qualms about sharing pictures of food I made, or a song I listened to, or a mirror shot I took because my solar plexus felt strong and the feelings of confidence were high. 

But I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that so much of this sharing, some of which exists in the spirit of true connection, and some of which, if I’m being honest, is part of a need to participate in a sort of performative hand-holding, has felt empty. 

And more emptiness, in a year which already has felt so empty, especially as a Black woman, just stings. 

I haven’t forgotten to mention the racialized virtue signaling on social media and other online channels that has come - and gone - with such a fervor that it’s hard to wrap my head around. 

Am I less of an activist if I don’t talk about #JusticeforBreonna online as much as the next person? Is my existence dependent upon educating others about the Black community’s stance on racial justice under our current presidential administration? Am I less of a Black woman if I’m tired of explaining myself? 

Maybe this post is in itself a form of virtue signaling. Maybe I’m just as eager to fill the emptiness with connection in the only way I really know how - bleeding my words onto the page, until I’ve exhausted myself, in the hopes that it resonates with someone else, in some small way. 

Whatever the case may be, I think it’s important to call attention to how and where we practice self-preservation in our online spaces, especially now, when so much of our identities and livelihoods are tied to our internet connections. Connecting in real life now is a decidedly novel experience - it won’t be that way forever, but for so many of us, it’s a reality our souls have chosen to live in during this particular cosmic timeline. 

What do I mean by self-preservation? Well, ideally, I want to live in a space of balance when it comes to my online interactions - a space in which I’m freely and openly exchanging ideas, knowledge, vulnerability and humor with others while maintaining a sense of privacy and connectedness with the personal parts of me, the quiet parts of me. I still belong to the school of thought that some posts are meant to stay in the drafts. 

As that balance is achieved, I am working through it. Working through self-doubt that tells me my ideas aren’t strong enough to breathe fresh air on their own; working through the self-flagellation buoyed by the narrative that Black people must always be twice as good and work twice as hard to get half as far; working through reminders that the systems we relied on are no longer working, and never really worked that well for us from the start.

I pray we find the balance we seek, in ways that feel good and whole. 

Reflection

How do I strike a balance between my online life and my IRLife? 

Are there parts of me that feel overly exposed, or not open enough?