How to survive "Zoom Gloom."
BY MELISSA GILLESPIE
Melissa Gillespie is a high school counselor with a background in bereavement, Harry Potter marathons, and tutu dance parties, with an affinity for all things pizza and Disneyland. She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her husband and can be found online at gillespiemelissa.com or on Twitter @themelgillespie.
I suck at meditating. I want to be good at it, but oftentimes lack the focus. It’s like my brain feels it isn’t utilizing time and zones back in on creating a to-do list instead. That is, until I am sitting in my 5th Zoom meeting of the day, then magically I am able to tune out the world, focus on my breath, and clear my mind.
In the beginning of the pandemic and shutdown, throwing a surprise Zoom call for my husband’s birthday was fun. Having a Zoom happy hour with friends who would normally have to drive over an hour to see me in person felt like a luxury. “Dates” with my friends now took place on my bed, sans bra, wine in hand, and no limitation to the number of glasses I could drink because I didn’t have to drive home. It felt more like an adventure we were all experiencing in solidarity as we found new ways to connect and interact, whether in “game nights” or “movie nights.” Videos of people playing music and dancing on their balconies filled our hearts and brought tears to our eyes.
It’s interesting how staring at a computer all day when I have the opportunity to walk down the hall and ask a coworker a question and then stop at Target on the way to the bar to meet a friend for happy hour is VERY different than staring at a computer in isolation. When my only human contact is my husband, who goes back and forth to the bedroom to take his work calls in our 1-bedroom apartment.
Back in March, I asked my best friend if she wanted to set up a time to talk. She told me that she spends all day on the computer and the idea of meeting friends on the computer was too
much; she couldn’t do it. I didn’t understand then, but now I do. While many of us are experiencing lack of normalcy (depending on where you live), with the opening and closing of life, then more opening and closing, the fallback of computer friendships feels lacking.
The Internet truly has been a savior during the shutdowns around the world, allowing for virtual connections with friends and family, but there comes a point when it doesn't feel like enough. I don’t want to talk to you through Facetime; I want face time with you. I won’t miss drinking my coffee at my house while you drink your coffee at your house 3 blocks away, because we’re not able to drink coffee at the coffee shop we used to visit on Saturday mornings. More than anything, though, I miss hugging people. Big squeezes conveying love and affection.
As many of us prepare to end our summer by jumping back on the computer (for work or school or date nights), there are some ways we can be proactive in battling the endless cycle of cyber meetings:
● Put your phone on time out when you don’t need it for work. There is freedom that comes from leaving it on silent in the other room instead of unconsciously scrolling away your free time.
● Get outside and get some sunshine, whether it be in the backyard or on a walk in nature. If nothing else, roll that window down in the car and let the wind run through your hair (and your mask).
● Connect to your people in new, non-digital ways: social distance picnics, mailing letters back and forth, taking turns dropping off dinner.
● Get in the kitchen. Or the art studio. Or the dining table. Create something, delicious or beautiful, or delicious and beautiful.
● When the computer can’t be avoided, gift yourself at least 30 seconds every 20-30 minutes to stare at something at least 20 feet away. Keep those eyes sharp.
Keep your head up. The way of technology will not be forever. Soon we'll be sitting across from friends at dinner tables and bars and coffee shops, saying, “remember when…” Until then, take care of yourself.