screens

This past week, my 22-year-old son removed his gaming computer from our home, ironically on the same day I found myself at Apple. I had ignored my battery service warning for several months, avoiding it because I thought I never had time to be without my laptop. Finally, after constant use, my battery couldn't hold a charge beyond 1 hour, glitching and delaying.  I brought it in for fear of it crashing altogether, and that fear pushed me forward. 

5 days he said. My Genius Bar person, used to addicts, quickly reassured me I could bring it back another time if "not ready to part with it today."

True, I hadn't planned to “part with it today.” As I glanced around the people mesmerized by shiny screens on display in the grey and white Apple store with its wide open, high ceilinged space, and I found myself repetitively visiting the newest MacBooks -- oooo look at that larger screen. I asked my daughter what color would I choose? I even thought at one point, if they have to keep my laptop for days, maybe I’d go ahead and buy an upgraded laptop. And look at that larger screen….

As he ran diagnostics and showed me how I was currently using 14 of my 16gb of memory, he pointed to all my minimized google windows running across the bottom of the screen. “Too much,” he said, “this will make the computer run very slowly and burn out the battery.” Again, knowing the addicts he talks to everyday, he warned me – “When I shut this down, they will be gone and not reopen,” looking at me in the eye for a sign of understanding and consent.

 I literally caught myself stop breathing for an instant, scanning my brain to memorize what windows I had open, how would I remember all the incomplete tasks? I took a deep breath and said, "Okay. Let's leave it today. 5 days. Today is Thursday.” I mentally scanned myself how I'd get through the Friday workday, hey, maybe even take a weekend off. Maybe they'll call sooner and Monday won't be a problem. I could always use my son's computer if needed. If really desperate, my daughter’s older computer could get me through, though her mic is not working. Okay. With more conviction. “Let's leave it here today.” 

As we drove out of the parking garage, I heard myself tell my child, “Wave goodbye to my computer.” Instead of sadness or stress, I felt lighter. I did however, reach for my mini computer cell phone for reassurance. I thought, tomorrow is Friday – I can answer any necessary work emails from my phone and give myself a light workday; spend a weekend without my computer. The thought felt liberating, restful, and opening my mind to ideas of other things to do.

That rainy Friday, I went back to sleep after my kids left, and slept in until 11am on a workday! I got up and went out for a crusty, soft, warm, buttered bagel with orange juice, then drove by a lake to watch the autumn leaves over the water while I savored my breakfast at almost noon on a Friday.

I scrolled through my Contacts and called a few friends I hadn’t spoken to in a long time. Left a few voicemails and spoke to two. Nice long catch-up chats. Then I drove home to catch my 13-year-old as they got off the bus. The day felt vacationy. So much so, that when the Genius Bar called to say my computer was ready, I felt a hint of disappointment. I felt too sleepy and mellow to even drive over to pick it up.

Early Saturday morning, I saw an email with a contract attachment I needed to edit and comment on that I would need the screen for. I had a list of supplements and dietary things to research and order online that a nutritionist had recommended.

I started reflecting on my week and thought, I’m going to write my next Blog entry about screens. As thoughts came flooding in, I sat up in bed thinking let me start writing. Oh yeah, my computer is not here. That decided it. I would go pick it up today.

A few nights earlier, I had had an upsetting discussion with my 22-year-old son about his gaming. It had clearly become an addiction that was getting in the way of his education, his self-care, and attaining adult life skills. We had been talking about it for a while, but it came to a head that particular night. He called his best friend to come take the hard drive out of the house.

Back in his high school days, we had had another heated discussion where I had threatened to take his Xbox into the street and smash it to pieces with a hammer. For better or worse, my cooler head prevailed and I did not smash the Xbox that night.

A few years back, we discovered our son had failed his classes in college and forfeited a scholarship. He had been lying to us for months that all was done at school as he played hours and hours of video games. When we found out, we had to pay back the tuition for the failed classes. He was ashamed and devastated, and we were disappointed and angry.

And yet, we still did not remove games from our household. That same argument – it’s the only way he socializes with his friends. And then covid hit and we were buying him even more games to pass the time and soothe the anxiety.

Like most American families, each one of us has our own version of screen addiction. For my son, it is gaming. For my 13-year-old it has been social media, music and YouTube videos.

My husband has been addicted to TV since the day I met him. Back in our early dating days, he would go out with me on a Friday night to be free to be in his home on Saturday nights to watch Xena, a detail I found out later in the relationship. That TV addiction became what I used to refer to as my husband’s mistress throughout much of our marriage. As soon as a TV goes on, his eyes get transfixed with the screen – he can hear nothing else around him. I used to joke that if I were to choke or have a heart attack right next to him, he would not notice. I tried to find humor, but truthfully, it has been one of the most hurtful aspects of my life. When we first moved in together, the internet had just reached our home. My memories of our early days in our first home are of him sitting at a table with that boxy Mac computer staring into the screen while that modem calling screechy sound filled the room. He would spend hours there, even in its premature state.

I found interest in emails to connect with friends and family, as I had always loved letter writing. But for him it was an entire world, a world he preferred to escape to even in our falling in love years. I could never compete with the TV or the internet with him. He seemed to enjoy watching other people run bike races, do things out in the real world. Oddly enough, he loved watching marathons of Hallmark comedy romance movies over being engaged with me.

My son would argue that his sibling’s internet use was way more destructive than his gaming. They would speak to strangers, look at things inappropriate for their age, and fall for advertising and social media trends. I may have to agree with him on their screen use being more dangerous because their safety was at risk multiple times. But I also see how the gaming has robbed my son of so many wonderful things life has to offer outside of screens. I see his disappointment in himself and his primal struggle to walk away from games to even eat a meal. I see how we can be out somewhere beautiful, and he gets angry and irritable insisting he has to get home right away. It’s like a very real withdrawal any addict experiences.

And now my turn. I cannot deny the copious amount of hours I have spent and continue to spend on screens. I have spent countless hours, sometimes 7 days a week, injecting my entrepreneurial spirit into the screens where I created an entire business. I built my own initial website, created an LLC, conducted a hiring search, zoom interviews, discovery calls with potential clients, bookkeeping, creating contracts, purchasing insurance, consulting with attorneys, accountants, website designers, social media marketers – all on my laptop without taking one step outside my front door.

During the pandemic, while my family and friends were freaking out about virtual everything, I dug myself in even deeper. I continued building and strengthening the infrastructure of my business. I used all that time where we could go nowhere to work harder within my laptop to build my business.

While others spoke of social isolation, I met and spoke to more people than I had in years. I met with people all over the United States, signing them as clients or hiring them as subcontractors. My world felt wider and my business grew successful. All from my laptop in front of me.

I even connected with a group therapy group formed to combat the stress and isolation of the pandemic. Years later, that group still meets every 2 weeks and has members I care deeply about who have given me immense support throughout the pandemic, the loss of my marriage, and life’s challenges. The internet also brought me back to therapy with a former favorite therapist from years back. Now open to telehealth, she was able to fit me in whereas she may not have had time otherwise.

So many aspects of my present life that I am most grateful for would not exist without the screen. And yet, screens have caused me great personal grief from the neglect of my husband to both my children’s struggles from their use of screens.

Like most technologies, there is always that endless argument: blessing or curse? I could argue I use my screens to create. To produce. I built a business. Great income. I’m employing others and serving clients. I’ve made friends and great connections with people all over the country, and now I am writing creatively on this blog I have created as a hobby. My son could argue he built social networks, maintains great friendships, builds creative worlds, learns new things and skills. My husband recently described himself as having interest in non-fiction as he spends several hours in news scrolls and entertainment industry news. My 13-year-old says scrolling through “Insta” reels makes them laugh and calms them (I have to admit it does do that for me too), that they taught themself how to play guitar from YouTube videos, and they learn about music and cooking.

All this is true. And, it is also true, my 13-year-old has used screens to learn about vaping, cutting, and suicide, and has spoken to adult strangers on video calls. My son is at a crossroads at 22, having to endure the withdrawal of his game addiction to face feelings of being behind in the life skills he needs to survive as an independent adult. My marriage has been lost after years of neglect.

One could argue, would my son still be facing these struggles without the games, would my 13-year-old still be self-harming, would my marriage still have ended? Like all “what if’s?”, we can never truly know the answers to these questions.

What I do know is that I feel grateful knowing my son’s gaming computer is finally gone. I wish and hope for him to find passion in the world outside his bedroom. At the same time, I know if he engages in academic pursuits, it will lead to a different type of screen use. Like his addict mom typing into her phone while the laptop was away, he can also play games on his phone or laptop. There are ways around.

I hope he finds his way to learning, to creating and thriving. And that his use of screens can shift towards building a career, a life outside of the screens.

For myself, I hope to take some of my own advice and get out into the “real” non-virtual world more often. Even a thriving business needs to be contained to working hours balanced with leisure time. I’m going to make a concerted effort to go out, to see friends in person, and maybe make some new ones. Go see a movie in the theater instead of from the couch. Get out to parks, museums, place myself into that 3-dimensional, tactile world where my senses can breathe in a world of experiences. And then, I could always come back here to write about it:)