Confessions of another Twitter addict

I read an article by Larry Carlat in the New York Times where he describes his Twitter addiction and his loss of job, marriage, and toll on relationships and productivity.

I have been using the internet as an escape from unhappy circumstances in life. I switch on the computer first thing in the morning, switch it off last. This person spoke of making 20-30 tweets in a day – I likely make five times that at least on a slow day. Every person in real life thinks I am an “Internet addict”. I see the internet as my sanity in an abusive environment.

I find it difficult to attribute wholesale intent. But the article rubbed me wrong. I don’t think the writer makes any direct general claims, but plenty of people forwarding it to me did – seemed like self-hate seeing as how they tweeted it to me.

Posting 20-30 times a day is posting about once an hour. I fail to see how this is dysfunctional or obsessive. But then, I think it isn’t wrong to post hundreds either, so ignore me on this, maybe.

However, he goes on to describe an addiction that seems like a constant presence on Twitter – which is fairly true for me too.

However, what I do on Twitter, is vastly different from what he describes. My interest is in publicly being a citizen, and looking at dysfunctional aspects and finding solutions. I blog for the common man. Twitter has thrown open a whole world of ideas in an extremely concise and fast form. My reach has expanded. My knowledge expands daily.

Man is a social animal – we aren’t designed to be islands. In a world where I am not able to find supportive voices at home, I can keep my sanity by making tweeps my family of the heart. I have shared joys, sorrows, inspirations, hurts, reached out for help, found it, reached out to help, made a difference. In the process, I also get the much needed human contact I shy away from in the real world.

It IS human contact. Twitter is another form of communication. It isn’t interacting with a machine. The anonymity of the internet to me takes away the clutter of stereotypes – where anyone can be anyone and sets us free to see what really matters – the quality of the contact.

Discounting your own actions like that is like abandoning a part of yourself as unacceptable.

It is sad that this person saw the social media as so inconsequential, because with the kind of following he describes, his next job should have been in social media. Then he need not worry about spending too much time on it, and his employers would be happy for his involvement.

Twitter is a tool. You can use a pencil for writing a love letter or a suicide note. The pencil in itself has no particular quality, nor does it tend to make you use it for certain purposes.

Other people too demean social media as a lot of noise without action. This is also not true. If you expect action on everything, then there is no point looking at a medium for conversation. Even people sitting in a chair and talking all day cannot expect that they will make a change unless they actually make it. And change can be made in many ways including twitter.

I have seen Twitter take on some really large challenges. Be it coordinating after terror attacks, blood donation, promoting bone marrow donor registration, cricket scores, rallying in national crisis, spreading traffic information, debating political issues and understanding our country better, finding an audience for ideas, updating live news and spreading it blazingly fast, giving voice to things that need it. Organizing help, even bringing on media attention to a worthy cause.

In the last month or so, I have helped a case of a dowry murder find help – Naina Singh. I have helped bring media attention to the murders of Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandes. As I write this post, I am just relaxing from a tense half an hour organizing help for a person who met with an accident and was alone, injured in a car accident, bleeding, robbed and without help with emergency lines not working. These are the life and death ones. I support causes all day, often. Out of these, I dare say many make a difference.

Is this real? I think the question to ask is if this person is real. A real person makes meaningful communication no matter the medium.

As more organizations and journalists increasingly use Twitter, it has become an important space for being able to influence those in power, because Twitter is not only an open forum, but also a networked community of individuals – a society.

The much ridiculed RT can spread an idea far and wide. Those it doesn’t relate to it simply scroll through. But those in position to help find that trail of humanity and in a barely noticed way otherwise, a needy person is in touch with those who can help. Today’s man could have bled to death without assistance.

And yet, I am able to drop all I am doing when my son calls me. I play with him, take him for walks, sing to him, tweet with him in my lap. I have a website for him. He has fans on Twitter. He gets friends keeping an eye out for both of us when the home situation is so iffy.

At the end of the day, it is the way we use anything, lose ourselves in it that matters. Otherwise, the same problems will haunt no matter where we go.

An Exhausting Day

Today has been… exhausting.

Woke up in the morning to husband’s tantrum over tidying of the house not done in spite of him telling me again and again. Progressed to MIL’s taunts over “experimenting” with Nisarga’s well being by making choices that allow neglect. Apparently, Nisarga’s medical problems are because of the computer.

Everyone hates me coming anywhere near the computer. They are certain that is the root of all evil in the house from alcoholic husband to enabling mother and son’s medical problems to not having enough money.

Tired of explaining that the money I do earn comes from the time I spend on the computer. With no one else paying the bills, who exactly is going to provide money for running the home with that income gone? It does not matter to them. Classic controlling environment. My social circle is down to zero from awkward judgments and insulting comments. Now is the time to axe the online contacts. I must listen to them only if I have to be “successful in life”.

I am depressed. Low on motivation, low on energy in my offline life. I don’t want to interact with these people, because their idea of interaction is a list of things to obey, which is something they will not accept me ignoring.

What little money I had got saved when I had walked out and lived with parents is gone again. Husband throwing tantrums over one pending bill he hadn’t managed to make my responsibility and none of the other 4 adults are able to pay. He keeps taunting me with it. I am holding firm. I will listen, sympathize, but I am not paying.

The mother in law wants to sell this house and buy a cheaper one, because she needs money to run their home in Virar and neither son is willing to take on the responsibility. She is in the same place as I am, except that she still pampers her sons.

In her place, I’d sell this flat and tell sons to come and live at Virar, or figure out their own accommodation, instead of which, she is planning to buy a cheaper flat, and keep a much smaller amount of money for herself. I tried explaining to her that if she must, she should spend as little on the new flat as possible so that she can live comfortably off the interest on the balance money that she will keep, or it is no use.

Husband on the other hand is totally unwilling to leave our area, and well… it will be expensive to buy a place here. She is trying to explain to her sons. This whole thing is driving me nuts.

I tried telling her bluntly to do what will take care of her old age, provide a home for her sons that she can, and tell them to take it or figure out their own lives. And guess what? For this suggestion, I am the evil daughter-in-law. Let me get this straight. I am making a suggestion that will potentially leave me homeless, but ensure that she has enough money to not need to beg from others in her old age, and I am the villain, because I am telling her to save money rather than spend it on sons who have so far totally refused to support their parents in their old age. Right. Mouth shut. Zipped. Said son’s have penises. I had forgotten.

Anyway, I went with her to see new places to buy in the area the husband is okay with. Piddly little homes, costing most of the money she will get from selling this one. I fail to see the point. Let’s face it, unless you are like moving some five suburbs outward, one home isn’t going to get you one home plus old age savings – all in one shot.

But I have learned my lesson. No comment. I told her I was fine with whatever they chose.

Nisarga got totally exhausted with all this gallivanting we did, and by the time we got home, he was such a mix of hungry, thirsty, excited, overtired, sleepy, wired… I took a while winding him down, which incidentally was good for winding me down too.

I have a new resolve. I am going to figure out a way to earn enough money to be able to move out into my own place + afford help with Nisarga + his medical expenses + bills + whatever else expenses come with living. Tall order, I know, but this goal will keep me sane in this mad house.

The escape is the accusation

The internet is my escape. I spend too much time on it. I avoid engaging with the world by drowning in my screen. Need to find better world.

I miss the days when I used to engage with the world freely. Seems so beyond my reach now. Classic depression :( No fix in sight.

All say it is internet addiction. I am ruining everyone’s life. They fail to see that there is no addiction. It is an escape from the ruins.

Very tough these days to be homeless and live in a home, among people who couldn’t care less. Who chose you because you were bright and unique and now want to file you so that you fit what they think you should be, to be good enough.

One day, I will escape. And then, it will not matter. Not like another friend who hopes “they will learn” when she leaves. When I leave, I couldn’t care less whether they learned or not or missed or not. They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it is indifference. That is where I am. Out of love, cornered.

The son I love so much is also the shackle holding me back. I barely make enough to feed us. How would I be able to afford rent and added expenses that come with setting up life anew, and a maid or someone to help so that I may work?

I try to save money, and that doesn’t work either. This home is a financial vampire. So, I am this bullock trampling grain, traveling long distances, without getting anywhere, because the only next step is along a path, and the path is circular.

Then, I will not need the internet at my nose always, because I will have a world to be myself in.