Intermacy

There's been a recent craze that has spread like wildfire across Facebook called '25 Things'. For those of you that don't fb, this involves writing a note of any random 25 things about yourself that other people may not know (or want to know) and then tagging 25 friends in it who are to read, "enjoy", then pass it on... doing it about themselves and including the person that originally tagged them in some kind of "get to know your friends better" fest. It's like chainmail but you publish it to your profile for the whole world to see.

As you may well imagine, I love this kind of thing. I have such a penchant for getting "real" and down to the "nitty gritty" with people that the opportunity to share and receive sharing back was just perfect. I was dead excited when I got the chance to do it and my 25th thing was even:
"25. We are not supposed to function alone and I think community and deep meaningful relationships are where it is at!"
My point was that to get real with people is the only way that relationships can ever be more than superficial and empty. I stand by this.

Of course not that many people I tagged actually tagged me back. I can understand that not everyone has the time, can be bothered or wants to be pushed into deeper friendships on demand. I get it and am not too bothered as the medium of Facebook is hardly reflective of real life and the efforts we make with our proper friends (as opposed to "friends" as found on Facebook) is the truly important thing.

But the thing that this phenomenon accentuated was the desire that people have to get intimate, even in this unnatural environment. Like, perhaps a little too real. Sharing for all the world to see (not just your friends but anyone that your friends know too) the sometime amusing but all too often cringeworthy details of their lives. It really sorts people into try hard, comedian, philosopher, procrastinator, attention seeker, regular joe, boring... I don't actually have a cohesive list of genres like in a US high school... just postulating a few. It seems that the world over, in all sorts of formats, we want to be noticed and appreciated and loved - to the point that we will put a little piece of our souls on the internet and be judged and adored in various proportions.

And this is just a little too close to home for me. For a few weeks now (you may have noticed) I have been feeling a bit of dis-ease at the one-sided nature of my blog relationship. It was like BGB became my significant other as far as intimacy levels go, but I try and try to get real with "him" and all I get back is pretty colours and an outdated picture coming up the same every time I press publish. It was taking from me but I was not getting the necessary return. I do have friends here in Bristol to share with but for some reason Baby, with all our history, is familiar to me. So I poured out more than a little piece of my soul on the internet and, as with all those people on Facebook, I suddenly began to see that I was being judged and adored in inestimable proportions by actually real people. Not just a blogspot domain name.

The root of this issue, I came to see, is in the fact that I am generically pro-honesty. I don't see the point in ever not trying to be totally real and I don't like it when relationships are superficial. I wanted to share the truth of my life and sure, of course I choose what I share and there will always be gaps or secrets, but on the whole my top priority was letting the truth speak. So I rushed in, as always, putting out all these raw emotions as I felt them so that I had integrity and so that I could write about things that not everyone would even admit to. I suppose I half-consciously decided that there was intrinsic worth in doing this because being genuine is always the most important thing. Then suddenly, months down the line I sit down and finally assess... and I feel so utterly utterly vulnerable.

For it suddenly hit me, way after I could have possibly contained myself, that I had not kept anything back. Something extra for me and a carefully chosen few. I felt like an emotional slut. Some people put themselves out in the world offering everything up to all and sundry on and plate in the hope that someone will come along and make them feel special. Tell them they have worth. Give them the affirmation they crave. And, as with a physical slut, you know that people will use and abuse and take what they give but the incentive to feed back into them is gone. They have nothing left to offer so why would you make the effort? More than that, who really wants to be with the village bike?

I'm not saying that I actually feel like people who read my blog are taking advantage of me. Just that I feel so exposed, my heart reaction is as though that is so. Now, I hardly get enough readers to truly worry, and people do occasionally make contact about stuff I post, but it is not really about the facts of the situation. Not so much about what people are or aren't thinking or what they take from me but that I just let it happen without any prior consideration at all. I suppose more than anything I question my motivation for the vulnerability, rather than how people receive it... for girls that let it all hang out on a Friday night are in a sense inviting men to disrespect them (not assault them mind, so not going there).

Basically, I had a reality check. It's not that I regret the honesty per se, just that I haven't considered what it means for me both with regards to my own emotional safety and why I even do it at all. Another way in which I had a wake up call was when, after a succession of essay related stati through last Thursday night, an old school friend of my sister sent me a message of encouragement because she had noticed me on her newsfeed updates. Entirely lovely of her and I don't mind the sentiment in the slightest but how is it that someone I used to annoy at breaktime over a decade ago could even know what is going on with me now? What does this say about me? Translate that into the general diagnosis for people that do '25 Things' and it is clear I have the worst case going of Internet Intimacy; or Intermacy as I have coined it.

I'd see people exposing themselves in part on Facebook and raise an eyebrow yet I suddenly realised I have crafted it so that huge chunks of detailed text about my whole life are on public view. I don't need this, I really don't. There are plenty of real people around to invest my time and emotions into; ones that can invest back and not leave me feeling like a tapped resource.

So this lent I am not just giving up swearing. Starting tomorrow I'm saying goodbye to blogging, status updates and any other form of blogosphere or Facebook exposure. If I want to be in touch with my friends I can meet with them, talk to them, even email or write them... but I will not do it so that the whole world can watch on. It seems I've become addicted to the artificial attention and why do I even care what other people think anyway? The only one who's opinion matters is always watching... and He doesn't get the honed, edited version of events.

I could be back after Easter. If so it will be with a better sense of what I do and don't deem an acceptable level of intermacy. It is hard, there is so much I still want to write but to do so would require the context of my reality and the payoff of that risk is one I have not yet weighed up. I am losing two of my favourite things in one foul swoop... this is going to be tough... but it should be good too.

Who knows who I'll be when I come back. If I come back. For now this xkcd comic rather sums up the next leg of this journey. Enjoy it and I may or may not see you around...

http://www.xkcd.com/77/