I realised recently that I've been needing to brace myself before I open my Twitter account.
Deep breath. Do I really want to go in there?
Deep breath. Get-ready-to-skim-scroll-really-really-fast-to-find-friends'-tweets.
For me, this has become a necessary, if over the top, approach to entering twitter, simply because of the relentless politics and social issues commentaries that seem to be clogging my feed lately.
The thing is: I'm not trying to follow these issues on Twitter. I want to use Twitter to be inspired and to develop connections with writing and creativity communities.
Yes. I know it's hard to have focus on something like writing without social issues. They are, in many ways, intrinsically interconnected. I have a higher degree in sociology/cultural studies, for goodness sake! I know writing - and who we are - is connected to the world and to issues we care about.
But.
Yes. I know Twitter has always had politicking and sharing of personal experiences and opinions since its inception.
But.
But, lately, entering Twitter has like going for a walk down the street, except that, at every single house you pass, someone is waiting in their garden, on their soapbox, ready with commentary on either their preferred issue or the issue du jour.
Often it's persuasive, relevant, insightful commentary.
Some viewpoints and thoughts sucker you in, and you detour into the garden's rabbit hole to find out more because you have to.
Because you care. You do genuinely care. The issues are real, they're causing real-life hurts, for real-life genuine people who don't deserve it. It's heart-breaking, it's not right and it's downright unforgivable.
Some stories lodge in your brain and haunt you. Sometimes for years afterwards. In many (most?) cases, it's not like you can do a single thing to make a difference. Even if you had the means to.
By the time you get to the top of the street, you've had to absorb double-digit commentaries on double-digit issues.
You feel helpless. Heart-sore and heart-sick.
Exit and repeat for every visit.
Deep breath.
When I saw this article about a journalist who had actively avoided the news for years, I related. Very much. With a sense of huge relief that it wasn't just me.
I'm not a journalist, but these days, I don't think you have to be. Going into Twitter means not even looking for issues you care about - they're already mid-air, hurtling towards you like emotion bombs. Whether you're ready for them or not.
Of course these issues are important. Most issues need strong reactions and debates and steady engagement to help drive change and ultimately improve people's lives.
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that, I can't absorb every issue. And even that I shouldn't have to. Up to a point, I should be able to engage with issues on my terms. Not have it all flooding, uninvited, through my mental space.
I've tried to do things to minimise the commentary on my Twitter. On Twitter, I automatically turn off retweets of anyone I follow. I mute anyone who veers towards too much social commentary of issues du jour. I mute key words. I try and keep curated lists of people who focus primarily on inspiring writing and nature topics.
These tactics don't really work, though. Twitter's structure makes sure of that. Muting key words is ineffective. The 'quote tweet' function sidesteps the 'turning off retweets'. And on my phone, Twitter's search button frequently hides its search bar (you have to scroll unintuitively up to access it) so that, when you go to 'search', all you see first are Twitter's 'curated', clickbaity headlines for you (frequently involving muted words).
More issues. More emotions bombs. More deep breaths.
I suppose clicks and advertising dollars are at stake, so if bad news (or controversy or misery) drives more of everything, then more bad news means more clicks. Except that I'm randomly reminded of Douglas Adams' airship powered by bad news because bad news travelled faster than anything else. Except that, when the airships arrived, they were terribly unpopular, because no-one wants bad news all the time.
Which pretty much sums it up.
So.
Is there an answer? I dunno.
Yes. When this happens, I use Twitter a lot less. But I still take another deep breath and go back in.
Because this is the other side of the equation for me: if I can catch glimpses of why I'm there - writing/ creativity/ nature and other good things - it's almost worth the heart-sickness.
This is why I included my kintsugi heart drawing as the illustration for this post - in reference to the artistic philosophy of repairing cracks with gold, and in so doing, making the broken beautiful.
It's a reminder that there are beautiful, amazing things in the world too. And that these matter too. Fulfilling a creative soul and a creative well matters.
These things are important too.
Just as important as anything else in the world, if not more so.
Because they can be heart-healing.
Du fond de coeur x
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