An Analog Life

I’m fortunate to be blessed with being from the generation that saw the world develop and implement the internet. I remember at the time that people were concerned about how the internet would get rid of jobs, see humanity become obsolete and destroy all the arts. It didn’t do nearly all the things that we feared, but it certainly did things that not a lot of people saw coming. The internet, like a knife, is a tool. Whether it becomes a weapon or not is up to the person welding it.

There’s somethings that I love about the internet – connecting with people all around the world, being able to shop from home, the amount of knowledge at my fingertips, the opportunities it’s afforded me – but there’s also a lot of it I don’t like. Lately I’ve been really resenting the intrusion of devices in our lives. We spend so much time stuck to them, missing out on the little pleasures of actually living our lives. Experiencing life.

I’ve felt this rebellion brewing for awhile now, but I’ve not been able to place a name to it until recently; analog life.

To “go analog” means to intentionally shift from digital, screen-based activities to physical, hands-on, and offline experiences, focusing on real-world connection, slower living, and reducing digital distractions for greater mindfulness, presence, and mental clarity. It’s about using non-digital tools like paper notebooks, vinyl records, or film cameras, and creating boundaries with your phone to enjoy activities that engage your senses and hands, rather than zoning out online. – Google Search

Returning to university study has me returning to those tools that I used when I was in high school 30+ years ago. Pen, paper, books. All this tactile experience that I had given up in moving to a keyboard, phone and internet. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it. I used to lose myself for hours at a time journalling. Making art with scissors, glue and magazines. Recording all the things that I had observed, felt and learned. It helped me make sense of the world – to get out of my own head, and my own way.

When I moved to Canberra in 2002 I moved from a journal to blogging. It was amazing. I was able to connect with people all over the world. I made friendships, I found people who were going through similar things, I grew in knowledge and skills. The internet helped me to do some of the things that I never would have been able to do and it was all because I wrote online. But in 2012 with the birth of our son I withdrew from sharing as much of myself online. I became protective of our son, our space, our family. I stopped journalling altogether.

I know that the decision to stop journalling is not what caused my anxiety and depression to get out of hand. I know what I was missing – my faith in the Lord – but I also know that journalling was a tool I used to help me make sense of things. It helped me to name (and shame *wink*) my feelings and irrationalities. It helped me to put things in perspective, to stop dwelling and to look at something logically and rationally. It was a tool.

We moved again in 2022, back to my home town, and it brought with it a lot of changes, introspection, challenges and growth. We went from not having family in close proximity to living next door to my parents; the two people I’m closest too outside of my marriage. It’s been a true blessing – it’s also been the catalyst for a massive period of growth and change for all of us. Nearly 4 years after we made the change I’m finally starting to feel settled and stable, but not with the move, with life.

I’ve realised that I’ve been churning, spiralling and fighting for the past 25+ years. I think most people would call that adulthood, and I know that’s what it is. It’s maturing, growing and getting to a place where you know yourself, accept who you are and are ready to work with it. As much as I miss the body of my 20s, I wouldn’t go back to that time and do it again (unless I could keep all I’ve learned!). I’m nearly 50. (I know, shock horror!) I am finally in a place where I can go, “I made that decision and I don’t have to explain it.” It feels amazing.

I also know myself well enough to know what works, what needs to change and what I actually want my life to look like. I’m waking up with purpose and getting things done. I haven’t felt like this in years. I’ve been struggling with what the kids call “bed rotting“. (Not to the extreme that’s mentioned in this article, but enough for it to be a problem.) I would get up, get my “must do’s” done to keep things in motion and then retreat to my bed for the rest of the day. Often sleeping or scrolling on my phone.

When it started I just thought it was because I was tired. But as it progressed I started to wonder if it’s because of something deeper. I wouldn’t have said I was depressed, but when I look back on my actions I think there’s some big red flags. I gave up doing chores, I stopped worrying about letting people down, I stopped communicating with people outside my inner circle, we stopped entertaining – I stopped engaging with the world. I just shut down.

I don’t know what changed. I don’t know why one day I woke up and went, this isn’t right. But I’m grateful for it. During that time I read a bit about the “analog project”. [This is one of my favourite posts about it to date, it’s by Little Truths Studio.] It really resonated with me. It helped me to group all the things that I’d been experiencing and thinking about for the past few months. I missed the tactile nature of the life I once had.

I stopped carrying my phone everywhere with me. I started playing with stationery and writing again. I read for pleasure. It was like coming alive again. I realised that I’m not a crank-a-quilt-out-in-a-week kinda girl. I’m a slow creative when it comes to patchwork. (Trust me, I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could settle down and focus on pushing out a quilt, but every time I do that I end up hating the process, hating the end product and resenting it. I have strong envy of those I know who can and do!)

I built a business on a task that I fundamentally struggle with. It’s mental. I can design a quilt a day, crank out a pattern and do all that stuff, but the actual making – not so much. All my fun had been sucked out of the thing I used to do because I loved it. I loved the creative time. So I made a decision. That’s not me and that’s not what I’m going to do. What’s it mean for my business? I’m still going to sell patterns and have events, but the days of me trying to keep up with everyone else are over. I’m embracing the process.

I’m also returning to blogging and journalling. To sitting down and writing because it brings me joy. Because I need it to be able to process all that’s going on in the world. I miss the connection that I had with people who read other blogs. I miss reading other blogs. I miss snail mail. I miss getting mail from someone that wasn’t a bill or something I ordered. (Although, I do like getting shopping in the post. *wink*) I want to do something I’ve never done; use the internet with intention and discipline. The internet and devices don’t control me, I control them.

Our teenage son has never had social media, so why do I? We consciously made the decision to not give him a phone or let him engage on social media, so why do I think that advice isn’t applicable to me? While I don’t want to get rid of all social media, I can certainly get rid of most of it. I can also control how much time I spend on it. I can delete all the apps on my phone that act as a means of distraction. I can leave it behind when I go from room-to-room. I can leave it behind when I go out of the house. The world will not end. These things all seem like “uh der” kinda realisations, but sometimes I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Maybe this is my mid-life crisis. If it is, I don’t care. I’m so very grateful to the Lord for the journey he’s given me and for the opportunities. I’m grateful for this lesson. As the great philosopher Bueller once said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”