I’ve been thinking about how strange it is that we know so much about each other now. Not important things, necessarily. Little things.
Where someone went for dinner.
What they did over the weekend.
What made them laugh.
What they’re watching.
What they bought.
What their dog did.
What vacation they’re taking.
We can go days without actually talking to someone and still feel like we know what’s happening in their life.
And I think somewhere along the way, I started confusing that with connection. Social media gives us these tiny glimpses into each other’s worlds. We post something, people see it, and for a second it feels like we shared the experience with them.
But we didn’t, really. They saw it. There’s a difference. And I’m realizing that difference matters more to me than I thought.
I like sharing my life. I like taking pictures of things that make me happy. I like documenting the ridiculous, beautiful, completely ordinary parts of my days. But lately I’ve started wondering how much of that experience changes when there’s an audience attached to it.
Would I still take the picture if nobody else saw it? Would I still walk toward the view. Would I still make the thing? Would I still laugh? Would I still consider it a good day?
I hope so.
Maybe some moments don’t need witnesses. Maybe something beautiful can happen and I can simply be the person who saw it. Maybe I can make something I'm proud of without immediately placing it somewhere other people can see. Maybe I can experience something funny and let myself be the only person laughing. And maybe real connection has less to do with having constant access to pieces of someone else’s life than I’ve gotten used to believing.
I don't want to stop sharing. I don't want to disconnect from people. I certainly don't want to stop wanting people in my life. I just want to remember that knowing things about someone isn't the same as knowing them.
Being visible isn't the same as being seen. And having access to someone else's life isn't the same as being connected to them. Sometimes someone else’s life is happening somewhere I can’t see. Mine is happening here. And maybe I’ve spent enough time looking outward.
I want to see what happens when I turn some of that attention back toward myself.