Those simpler online days…

Like many born in the late 1970’s and early to mid-1980’s – much of our formative years were spent without the words “internet” or “online” being part of the language we knew. We had computers but they were not associated with connectivity to others, but to basic DOS-based games and simple word processing and spreadsheet programs to begin to negate the days of cursing making an error on the typewriter that when corrected, never truly went away. Televisions had finite times that shows we were interested in were on, the VCR or Beta new release movies were a treat to be rented for 24 hours occasionally, there was always music – though for many of us still in vinyl record form so dancing crazily was kept to a minimum so as not to have the record skip from the vibrations. We grew up forced to use our imaginations, not because our parents made us but because we simply had no other choice.

I remember the first days of the internet becoming somewhat of a household item. A precious limited few minutes per month of access to this world that expanded beyond the walls of our homes and the limits of walking distance as a kid. Connecting to it I’m certain caused some hearing damage from the consistently high pitched screeching noise as you “dialed in”, only to be cut off abruptly and have to dial in again when someone picked up the phone to make a call. Websites were simple and text-based (seeing as one photo could take minutes to download, or even longer depending on size). Chat rooms were cropping up bringing together an interesting, mostly anonymous group of people from many corners of the world. We were counselled never to use our names in our e-mail addresses with excitedly created and never to tell strangers our real names or locations in chat rooms. Our parents knew enough to caution us that the online world was one which could be enjoyed but always on which we should be wary of the accuracy of information and the people that we met on there.

In those days of chat rooms, ICQ, message boards and MSN messenger the race for or validation by “likes” and “views” just wasn’t an issue the vast majority of people were concerned with. It was a place to connect to others in a different way, not compete with others for some imaginary social status. I would’ve been around 17 at that time, very firmly entrenched in years of mental illness I hadn’t fully understood was depression. In those times of wandering through this new virtual world I searched for information to understand myself and try to validate that I wasn’t just some emotional teenager but that something much deeper was happening. All of the books seemed to say that to have depression you must have dropping grades in school, an inability to get out of bed, and an unmistakable demeanour which screamed to the world that you weren’t “normal”. I didn’t have that.

Then one day I somehow stumbled upon a place called “The Island”. It was a log-in based message board dedicated to people who, like me, were just trying to understand what was happening in their brains. It was like finding the connection I’d be missing in my relatively small town “real world”. For the next 3-4 years many of those people became genuine friends as much as one can be when you never meet someone face to face. I knew that in those darkest moments, I could log into the message board and chat room and find someone there who would understand my struggle and just be there with kind words – not trying to fix me. Enough people were trying to fix me in the real world, in this online world I desperately just wanted to be heard, and to express myself through writing which always came to me easier than spoken words. Everyone had a story, a connection, a pain that was often raw and born of years of suffering in different ways with different demons in our minds. We wrote letters printed on fun stationary to each other, e-mailed or ICQ messaged each other often, we shared our good moments and the very bad ones, we mourned the loss of some people whose lost their fight with mental illness, and we took comfort in this little “Island” that was safe and supportive. No one worried about hateful comments, it was an understanding that this was a place of safety for many people who didn’t even feel safe in their own minds. But, as technology did and still does today – it sped quickly away from this simplicity. The costs to host such a site became too much for those few who had begun it and gradually we all drifted away.

In so many ways these people that I never met saved me from myself in those early years of this journey through depression simply by both suffering alongside me in their own ways to be understood and by being with me when I felt like I couldn’t go on anymore. I sometimes wonder what happened to many of them and the paths their lives took. Twenty years later I wish I could go back and tell them what their virtual presence in my life meant for as much as I expressed my appreciation then, in today’s wild and often vitriolic, complicated world I appreciate the simplicity that was the Island even more.

I’ve found myself questioning my relationship to technology lately as I know many others do as well. What was once an escape from the world has became a world many want to escape as often as possible. Many are realizing that consciously or not, we too are affected by how many “likes” or “views” our “followers” or “Facebook friends” grace us with. We hesitate before posting something, unsure if the virtual world will embrace, destroy or simply just ignore what you want to show or say. What was once a simple relationship with the online world has become a complicated, unique and somewhat dysfunctional social system that adults struggle to navigate and children grow up thinking is a big part of their real worlds.

So, as if I didn’t have enough of the multitude of insecurities I’m capable of beating myself up for in the “real world” – my fragile state of mind also has to contend with the little voice that makes my words or my photos somehow less worthy if lacking likes. You may ask then, why do I share at all? Why do I not just cut that out of my life altogether and no longer blog or post photos of landscapes and views that have inspired me? Because, as big as the online world has gotten, I know there are still many people of all ages trying to get through the days like I was two decades ago. Maybe my words here or my experiences and lessons I’ve battled through can help ease bring some small bit of comfort or sense of belonging to someone else – whether they like the post or not. Maybe the photography hobby I use to calm my disquieted mind can produce beautiful images that someone struggling without access to the beautiful ocean landscapes I have in my backyard can feel at peace looking at in difficult moments.

I’ve spent my life trying to hang onto actions that have meaning – so rather than confine my words and images to a diary or album only accessible to me – I’ll put it out there and leave a little piece of me for others with kindness and sincerity to lend to the growing numbers trying to drown out the toxicity and remind the world as a whole that we’re all human and we all deserve respect, compassion and empathy.