Reflecting on social media, again
Reflecting on social media, again
Parasocial relationships and true connections and what's next
Last night I got to join a video call with some lovely humans I’ve met through the dog Instagram space. (I’ve actually spent time with all of them in person since we moved into our van—online connections turned real-life ones!)
It was exactly what I didn’t realize I needed.
If you’ve been around over the last year, you know I keep (over)thinking my relationship with social media. There are many good questions involved about my values and priorities and etc.
Part of it has also simply been that Instagram doesn’t feel like it used to. It’s weird. I love connecting with fellow animal people—I’m energized by the good conversations, honored speechless anyone’s taken the time to read my words—and I’m still in awe about having friends (not just acquaintances but friends) purely because years ago I decided “I need a separate account to post about training my dog”.
But I’ve long felt I’m not actually great at maintaining those connections. I’ve never been in any sort of ongoing group chat. I’m often slow to respond to direct messages and comments (even though they matter to me). The parasocial stuff can be uncomfortable—it makes me feel vaguely guilty and not enough.
And then there are the actively bad interactions. I had a bunch of those last fall when some people who wouldn’t actually talk to me, person to person where we could have cleared things up, deeply misconstrued a post I’d made as being “anti rescue”. (Tell that to my past foster dogs or anyone who knows me, but whatever—I’ve given it way too much mental space already and need to let go.)
The thing is, letting go has been hard. While 2023 wasn’t the first time I’d experienced unsavory stuff on Instagram, it was the worst. It made me nervous. It made me overthink more. And sharing on the Paws and Reflect Instagram lost a lot of its pure, joyous, it-feels-wonderful-to-connect-with-other-humans allure.
I didn’t know what to post, or when, or what my goals were in the space, or what they should be, or what other people expected from me, or if I even wanted to keep being so online. Plus I was navigating offline transitions like, you know, adjusting to living in a van full time and trying to write my first book (the manuscript has been sitting in first-draft state for months now, waiting for me to work up the courage to truly edit).
Anyway: I still don’t remotely have that all figured out. But face time with real, delightful people who I wouldn’t know at all if it weren’t for this corner of the internet helped me feel grounded again. Warm and fuzzy and present.
I know words often fall flat through a screen, but I mean this: Thank you to everyone who’s ever connected with something I’ve written, who has taken the time to tell me so, who’s cheered for Scout and for me, who is kind, who has put in more than your fair share of effort to forge a connection, who makes all of this—*gestures widely*—possible. Thank you thank you thank you.
