This post was originally published on Rethink Creative Group’s Blog.
At the end of my sophomore year of college, I switched out of my film major because of one, tiny predicament: I hate being dependent on technology. It crushed me when I would receive a lower grade for a movie assignment because the computer wouldn’t save or the camera had a smudge on it. I didn’t want my devices to control me. I wanted my grades and my life to be dependent on my own efforts. So I left that major, because technology is better when it serves you, not when you serve it.
But the other day, a thought struck me across the face as I tried to contact a number of my friends.
I’m dependent on technology to maintain my relationships.
This thought killed me on the inside. I instantly hated how I was texting my friends, messaging them on Facebook, and sending them emails, when I could make the time to go see them in person. I started blaming my technology for doing this to me, controlling me to the point where it mediated how I managed my friendships.
I imagined that if I had Siri, I would blame her for all my flawed relationships. I would say, “Siri, you stink. You’re ruining my relationships”, and she would respond in her robotic, unmoved voice, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”
That’s right, Siri. You’ll do better.
Yet, as I wrestled with this thought more and more and continued writing my articles and blogs, I realized a devastating truth, one that cut deeper than the thought of technology controlling me.
I can’t blame technology for my faulty relationships. It’s the heart of the user that’s flawed. It’s my own damaged and isolated heart that’s killing my relationships.
Though technology helps me connect with my friends scattered across the country, I so often feel the temptation to remain behind the screen, even when my friends are close by. Truth is, I could go see my friends, down the hall or down the street. I could make time. But for some odd reason, my heart won’t let me. It’s so happy staying here in this chair, staring at screens and hearing its own voice, one that it’s familiar with. There is no danger in being by yourself.
My heart fools me that I can keep relationships thriving from behind a screen. But that’s just a lie to save me the trouble of putting myself out there and sacrificing anymore with my relationships.
We would love to believe that our relationships could stay behind screens because then we could be efficient with our time; and not to mention less vulnerable, hiding the longings of our heart through masked words. Yet, what I’m so often reminded of is that to be in a friendship or a relationship at all is to risk, whether that means risking our time for the visit, or our need to hide who we truly are.
Change is best implemented when we risk.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying relationships can’t be maintained by a text here and there. What I’m saying is that technology makes our friendships easy and comfortable, and that’s the problem. It’s easy to shoot someone a text. It’s easy to write a brief email. But it’s difficult to actually show up in front of that person.
Technology deprived me of sacrificing for my relationships, and that’s what I liked about it. But unfortunately, my relationships suffered from this.
So this year, I’m trying something new. I refuse to let my heart trick me that change can be committed through digital means. I’m forcing myself to get off the computer and change the world through actual interaction. I’m beginning to sacrifice more for my relationships, and it feels amazing so far.
I still struggle, but with each new day, I’m slowly learning that all the best change is fostered through face-to-face interaction, not Facetime.