There’s an uncomfortable emptiness I feel whenever I’ve finished watching a show. For a few seconds, my heartbeat quickens and I worriedly wonder what show I should watch next. This feeling deepens each time it’s experienced because I have made my way through an embarrassingly large amount of shows on Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Prime. If no new show appeals to me, I’ll return to a few old favorites and dive back in for the second, third, maybe even fourth time. I could defend myself and say I’m falling back in love with something I connected to, but I should be concerned that I feel the need to be watching something constantly.
Before the rise of streaming platforms five or so years ago, none of us were familiar with the concept of “on-demand binge-watching”. Sure, we might have enjoyed a Disney Channel marathon or two, but we had to sit in front of the TV and commit to watching. In order to experience any other part of life, whether it was eating dinner, showering, or doing homework, we had to pick up the remote and physically turn off whatever show we were enjoying. Now, our shows can follow us wherever we go. We can have The Office in bed, in the library, outside, and even in the bathroom. I wake up most mornings to an episode, watch some when I’m eating a meal in my dorm, and I even put it on in the background while I’m doing homework.
With this constant stimulation from binge-watching or scrolling through my phone, it’s no surprise that I feel a pang of loneliness when the background noise comes to an end. I don’t spend every second of my day glued to my iPad, but my days are always filled with something to do. If I’m not in class, in meetings, or having meals with my friends, I’m doing something. A combo of Netflix and homework, a combo of Netflix and cleaning, a combo of Netflix and bullet journaling. Or if I’m feeling especially self-motivated, I’m on a bench trying to write something. I’m so used to having something going on that I’ve forgotten how to just be.
The thought of spending time alone with myself falls somewhere between disconcerting and terrifying on the spectrum. I’m fine being alone with music, a show, a book, or a journal, but if I have to do something without background entertainment, I’m at a loss. And I think a lot of us are too. While I’m still a big Netflix girl and I love crossing campus listening to music with my AirPods (subtle flex), I think there’s a certain value in spending quality time with ourselves and changing our discomfort towards alone-time with a little excitement.
Over the past few years, there’s been a rise in the self-love narrative, and I think a great first step to following this mantra is unplugging, seeing how we feel, and reacclimating ourselves…with ourselves. After all, in order to love someone, we have to not only know her but also be in communication with her. How can we love ourselves if we’re never actually spending time with ourselves? Whether it’s by journaling about how we feel at the end of the day, meditating, or just sitting, we can hit the much-needed “pause” button on our busy lives and the constant stimulation. You won’t find me giving up Netflix completely or missing out on the chance to show off those AirPods, but I think we should make the effort to incorporate thirty or so minutes of alone time into our days so we can simply exist and appreciate the moments in between.