The Time of Self-Diagnosis

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Some time ago a friend of mine was happy to tell me that she had finally been diagnosed – she was suffering from dyscalculia, which explains why she was always struggling with math, or remembering important dates.

And last Summer, I listened to the radio while driving a car. The host of that radio station was excited to tell about this new diagnosis called dysmorphophobia, or body dysmorphic disorder – a mental disorder where a person believes one or several of his or her body parts are severely flawed which hinders the person from living a normal life.

In one way, my feelings towards these diagnoses were neutral. It’s a good thing to find explanations to one’s behavior and know that I’m not alone with these thoughts and feelings. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder: is it really necessary for us humans to diagnose every flaw, weakness and imperfection in human nature? Are we coming up all these names and diagnoses just because we have the need to have an explanation for everything we do, instead of just accepting that these traits are a part of who we are as people?

Instead of being called shy, we prefer the word introvert.

Instead of saying that you don’t like your nose, you say you suffer from dysmophophobia.

Instead of saying that you prefer quiet evenings in the company of a few, you describe yourself as a highly sensitive person.

Don’t take this the wrong way: I myself use these diagnoses to describe and understand myself (as you will see later in this post). But I’m critical to how much we should rely on and adapt to these diagnoses.

Should we take them as granted and make them an integrated part of our personality – or should we critically observe them and take in the knowledge without becoming the diagnosis itself?

An Intertwined Mix

During the past year, I’ve learned some things about myself. For instance, I’m a people-pleaser, which means I tend to put other people’s needs before my own. I’m also a highly sensitive person, a HSP, which is difficult to describe in a sentence but basically it means that I’m more sensitive to people and social events than many others are. Recently, I’ve also concluded that I’m an introvert.

And some weeks ago, my partner came across a book about who we fall in love with and why. It describes four different personality types according to what hormone your body releases the most, and there is a test anyone can do that will show you what two personality types dominate your body and mind. I did the test and got some more definitions to add to my ’personality diagnosis closet’. Now I’m also a builder and a negotiator.

So, let me introduce myself: My name is H.E.R. and I am a People-Pleaser, an Introvert, a Highly Sensitive Person, a Builder and a Negotiator. My horoscope sign is Cancer and my Chinese Zodiac Sign is Dog.

According to these definitions I’m clever and courageous but emotional and stubborn (definition of Dog), attentive and thoughtful (HSP), tend to prioritize other people’s needs before my own (people-pleaser), enjoy spending time alone and in that way recharge my batteries (introvert), and am imaginative, sensitive (negotiator), loyal and good at making lists (builder).

This. Is. Me.

Or is it?

Does It Really Matter?

As the science of biology and psychology develop further, the scientists come to understand us humans better and better. Today, our behavior can be explained through not only psychology, but also biology.

For instance, according to the Four Personalities Test, a Negotiator releases more estrogen than the other four personality types, while a Builder releases more serotonin than others. Highly sensitive people aren’t necessary people who are shy but because they have a more sensitive central nervous system than many others, it may seem like they are. And science shows that introverts react to dopamine in a different way than extroverts do.

The more we know, the better we get at giving biological explanations to why we are the way we are. In the olden days, our behavior was explained by words such as shyness, courage or being in love. But today, we have a biological explanation for these things. We can name these characteristics anew and call them diagnoses, explanations for why and who you are.

For scientists, this is a good thing because it helps them move on to the next human-related challenge and de-mystify many mysteries about us humans. But for us others who don’t do scientific research – does knowing about hormone balances really change a thing? Knowing what hormones we release or how our bodies receive those hormones – how much of it do we really understand? Just because affection is actually your body releasing oxytocin, does it change how we see it in real life?

Just because we have a different, more scientific description of something, changing the way we see and think about things takes a lot more time. So, why are we putting down all this effort to self-diagnose ourselves?

(In addition, isn’t it nicer to talk about our affection for someone rather than saying ”by the way, last night my body was releasing oxytocin like crazy, if you know what I’m saying?”)

Living Up To Expectations

In the age of self-diagnosis, these biological / psychological explanations of human behavior may give you reassurance and validation – but it isn’t said that they’re one hundred percent true.

Understanding yourself, how your body and mind functions, can be extremely helpful because you 1) get to know your strengths and weaknesses, 2) understand why you behave in a certain way in certain situations, and 3) have a better understanding of what you need and want in order to live a balanced life.

For instance, learning about my high-sensitivity helped me realize why I didn’t enjoy working as a local news journalist and why I often seemed to react more strongly to conflicts than other members of my family did. The definitions of introversion helped me realized that I need time alone – not because I’m weird and anti-social but because that’s one of the few ways to find the time and space to focus only on myself and my needs for a while.

Sometimes we need to see things from another point of view to understand who we are and what we want. These tests and descriptions can help open one’s eyes, help to see one’s personality traits from a different perspective.

Another reason for self-diagnosing is also the fact that life, in general, is pretty messy and complicated. There are so many challenges to face, problems to solve, complex things to understand. So, if we can make our own personality easier to understand by making tests about it (instead of asking ourselves those questions and seeking answers to them), why not do it? It’s like a weather app: instead of learning to read the clouds, the winds and the color of the morning sky, you can take a look at the app and it will tell you how many layers of clothes you need that day.

It might sound like an easy way out. You do a test and read what it says about your strengths and weaknesses. You take the information to your heart and start living your life according to those strengths and weaknesses.

But there’s a catch here: we humans have a tendency to ”live up to expectations”, whether we want to or not, and that can have dire consequences.

Read about how highly sensitive people easily get exhausted, overwhelmed and burned out, and you find yourself noticing those traits especially often, either in yourself or in people around you. Suddenly, the descriptions become self-fulfilling prophecies because we are quite likely to buy in everything the descriptions say about us or others. We see those traits around us because we want to believe that they actually exist.

We take these instructions in because we want to fit in, find our place in the society.

But in that case, can we still say that we are being true to ourselves, true to who we are?

Diagnosis as a Tool

For me, reading and doing these tests has been a way to help me understand myself. I’d say they have been extremely useful. But I’d also like to point out this: when doing these tests and processing all the information, it’s essential to remember that these tests don’t tell you who you are – they tell you some aspects that can be true with you. Just because something says this is a part of you, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are.

So, instead of taking these theories into your heart and making them a grounded part of your identity, you’ll benefit more if you see them as tools that help you 1) clarify to yourself why you react or behave in a certain way, and 2) understand how you can deal with these reactions in relation to yourself and other people.

Don’t see the test results as a set script for you to follow. Don’t choose the seemingly easy way out because it isn’t – if you wish to stay true to yourself.

***

How do you feel about all the tests and books that aim to help us understand ourselves? Has some specific book or website had an impact on how you see yourself? I’d like to continue the conversation in the comments.

Still Life Sunday: The Sound of the Ocean

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26 The Sound of the Ocean

”Write about your favorite childhood holiday!”

I glance up from my notebook where I’ve been doodling cute animals and old-school road trip cars for the past fifteen minutes to see if my teacher in her colorful clothes and sunny demeanor is serious. She is.

“Come on, go for it”, she says, smiling reassuringly. A photo of a palm beach is reflected on the whiteboard. “Surely you all have a pleasant vacation memory stored somewhere inside your mind. Write about that vacation, the excited feelings for all exotic, the smell of good food, the wonder of all the new things you saw!”

I glance to my sides to see how other people feel about this writing exercise. To my surprise, they seem excited: a warm, happy expression on several faces, a pen ready in hand to start writing. As the teacher urges us to begin, the others hunch down over their notepads and start combining words into sentences. I, however, keep my gaze forward.

I try to think of something, anything vacation-related but nothing comes to mind.

“You have twenty minutes!”

Twenty minutes feel like an eternity when you have nothing to write about. I suppress a sigh and lower my gaze back down to the doodles on the page. If it were an option, I’d do nothing for the following minutes except maybe doodle some more, but unfortunately it isn’t an alternative. The teacher wants us to return the paper on our vacation memories in the end of the class.

It’s not that I’ve travelled and it’s not that I don’t remember anything from those travels. But I don’t have a favorite vacation, per se – because all the vacations were the same. To the same island in the Canary, to the same family hotel with two swimming pools and a gigantic breakfast buffet with chocolate croissants and with the same group: my family and no one else.

I glance at the timer the teacher has projected on the whiteboard. Fifteen minutes left.

The thing is, nothing special happened during those vacations. My mother only wanted to lie in the sun and read books, take a break from the realities of life and her work. My sister wanted to swim in the pool. My father didn’t enjoy the sun very much so he stayed mostly inside our hotel room, listening to Elvis on a portable cd-player. So, I just wandered around, sometimes swimming, sometimes reading, asking for money to run to the local shop on the other side of the street to buy ice cream.

Ten minutes left. Crap. A feel a slightly panicked tremble as my hand clenches the pen I’m holding. If I don’t start writing soon, I might fail this class. As sunny as our teacher is with her colorful clothes and white Pepsodent smile, she’s also extremely strict about how she wants her students to perform.

Suddenly, a memory comes to me. It’s from my family’s very first trip to the Canary Islands, some twenty years back. I almost sigh in relief, bend down over my notebook and start scribbling feverishly, putting down the words faster than they come to my head.

In Tenerife, with only a few days left before we would leave to travel back home, I became friends with this girl from Denmark. She was sweet and kind with a long, blonde braid and blue eyes, like a true Scandinavian. We went on imagined adventures together, searching for secrets and mysterious cats around the hotel area, avoiding our parents who, we decided, were dangerous prison guards searching for us.

The last day, after only a few days of adventures, she gave me the most beautiful seashell. It was light-colored and reminded me of her. I wondered why she wanted to give it to me – maybe it was a sign of trust and true friendship but as we could barely communicate with each other, I couldn’t ask.

With a combination of sign language and some Danish words, she told me to press the seashell against my ear and hear the sounds of the ocean. I did and she watched me do it. I only heard a quiet, ambient sound that didn’t resemble an ocean in any way, but I smiled and told her it sounded amazing, just like a real ocean. She seemed extremely satisfied which made me happy despite my tiny lie.

However, when she left to eat lunch with her family, I hid the seashell in the playground sand. I can’t explain why, but I did it. I left it there and went to pack my things, to have one last lunch at the hotel bar where all the workers knew some words of my mother tongue, before we would leave.

And just as I can’t explain why I hid the seashell, I can’t explain why I in the last minute went to the playground to get it back, to take it with me back home. Luckily, it was still there. I cleaned it from the tiny, irritating sand pebbles, and put it in my pocket to take it with me back home.

“Time’s up! Return your writings on my desk now, please!”

Nineteen years later, I still have the shell. It sits on my bookshelf, and sometimes I put it against my ear to listen to the sounds of the hollow arc. It doesn’t sound like the ocean. But I’d like to know why the Danish girl thought it did.

Lessons With Murakami

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Some nine years ago I walked into a book store that had a sale on all sorts of books. That was still a time when I purchased books in the spur of the moment: if the title, synopsis and the writing style agreed with me (checked by reading a paragraph or two), I’d buy the book. That day I left the store with two books: one was a classic and the other one was a memoir – a genre I’m not very familiar with.

The memoir was Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. A thin book, 180 pages, published in 2008. The back cover promised personal essays on running, a sort of memoir written by the famous Japanese author.

At the time, I was desperately trying to find ways to integrate sports into my life and thought that maybe this book could inspire me to make running into a habit. So, I bought it. I hadn’t read Murakami before, but this felt like a simple, nice way to get to know him and his style of writing.

However, it wasn’t until this year, 2019, that I actually managed to read and finish that book. Funny enough, soon after purchasing the book a friend of mine asked if her friend could borrow it because he was writing a book essay about Murakami. I borrowed it as I hadn’t started reading it yet, with a promise to get it back in a few months.

I did get it back in a few months – nine years later. Because two months ago, I saw my friend again and got the book back.

I did get it back – and the timing was perfect.

The Ideal Timing

I don’t know if you know this – but you know how sometimes you read a book and think this was the perfect time to read this book? It could be the theme of the book that feels relevant to you at the moment, or maybe the hero of the story is pondering the same things that you are.

The book might have been waiting in your pile of books to be read but you just never got into reading it. But then something happens, you pick up that book again and boom – it’s a match, the mind is ready for the content because the timing is perfect.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running was that kind of match.

It’s a short book with nine journal-like entries that Murakami wrote under the course of one year when he trains for one of his many marathons. In these essays, the author reflects on his journey as a runner – but also as a writer. Originally, I purchased the book because I wanted to find the motivation to run. However, as I read it now, nine years later, the book gave me new thoughts and perspectives on writing, not running.

Metaphors and Thoughts

Although the book is short, it’s nothing to binge on. The essays are not fictitious but based on Murakami’s life experiences and thoughts on these experiences, that fill the chapters with some sort of lessons on life. Taking these life lessons in and thinking about them takes time, and therefore I read one chapter here and one chapter there – twenty pages or so at a time.

The book is for the most part about running although Murakami does share some of his thoughts on writing as well. For instance, he describes the moment when he decided to write his first book (he was in the bleachers of Jingu Stadium watching a baseball game when the thought came to him) and the process of becoming a full-time writer.

But although most of the essays focus on him training for a marathon or a triathlon, many of his thoughts on running can be turned into metaphors about writing. One of these thoughts / metaphors is about consistency when it comes to training. Murakami writes:

”The total amount of running I’m doing might be going down, but at least I’m following one of my basic rules for training: I never take two days off in a row. Muscles are like work animals that are quick on the uptake. If you carefully increase the load, step by step, they learn to take it.

– –

If, however, the load halts for a few days, the muscles automatically assume they don’t have to work that hard anymore, and they lower their limits. Muscles really are like animals, and they want to take it as easy as possible: if pressure isn’t applied to them, they relax and cancel out the memory of all that work.” (p. 71)

When it comes to training and running, this excerpt presents a cold, hard and true fact. But it applies to writing as well: creativity is a muscle that needs constant training to produce desirable results. And when improving one’s craft, consistency is a key. During a typical week, I don’t take more than a day off from writing – and that is why it never gets too hard to sit down and get my writing done. It’s a process similar to Murakami’s marathon training, only for me, it’s about sitting on my butt in front of my computer.

Three Lessons I Took With Me

There are three things in What I Talk About What I Talk About Running that resonated with me particularly well:

1. ”Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional”

In the foreword, Murakami tells about an article he read where famous marathon runners revealed what special mantra goes through their heads while they run. One of them was ”Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” which means you have very little control over the hurt part of running, but it’s up to you to choose how much you wallow in it, how much pain you can take.

Writing can be seen as a marathon race, as well. It’s a process with as many feelings, emotional ups and downs, as during a 26.2 mile / 42,195 km run. Creating a novel from the first draft to being published contains inevitably some pain but how much you decide to invest thoughts and feelings in that pain is up to you.

2. Three most important qualities of a novelist: talent, focus and endurance.

This is something I hope to get back to later on this blog. Although I don’t fully agree with Murakami here, he does have a point. Talent is needed, some sort of knack or gift for the craft (although – what is talent, really?), to get good at producing quality.But talent is a fickle thing and isn’t really under our control – and this is where focus and endurance come into play. The ability to concentrate helps you to utilize that limited talent of yours, and endurance is what keeps you going and helps you finish those projects.

3. Sometimes taking time is actually a shortcut.

 

Taking time to ”stubbornly, rigorously, and very patiently tighten all the screws of each individual part” (p. 161), that is, to practice and improve ones craft day after day, piece by piece, can pay off big time.

Say that you’re editing a novel and want to make it better but don’t know how. You start a time-consuming project: you start by reading about plotting and structuring a story, then you move on to storytelling and how to write fluent dialogue. After that comes creating authentic characters and tweaking the details, creating an as-perfect-as-possible manuscript.

Reading all these things and applying them to your writing can take a huge chunk of your time and feel ridiculous, time-consuming, like nitpicking. Why do this, why invest all this time in learning details – why not just try rewriting the whole story instead? At least you would be writing.

But suddenly, the parts fall into place and you understand how all the small details create a bigger, well-functioning picture. You end up improving your craft by taking all that time to learn.

***

Have you read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running? What in it resonated with you?

Still Life Sunday: A Zip Code Error

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25 A Zip Code Error

Sometimes I wonder if I was sent to the wrong country. What if the mail delivery service got it all wrong when they sent me here? Maybe the tag said “Fiji” but I was sent to “Finland”.

I think of this possible error when I struggle to keep the icy wind on the outside and the warmth of my body on the inside of the jacket.

I think of it when I wake up in the morning and see the ever higher piles of new snow, freshly layered on the old coat of white.

In the Finnish language, there are over a hundred different words for these small ice crystals. The fluffy, huge snowflakes have a different name than the tiny small, weightless snowflakes. New snow is called one thing, old snow another.

For instance, the snow that stays on the ground or on the trees has different names depending on how it stays. If the wind is strong, the snow that falls is called tuisku. If you can’t see through the snowfall, talk about pyry.

But for me, most days, the snow is just snow. There’s more of it, there’s less of it. It’s piling up, it’s melting away.

I watch the snow from my kitchen window, how the white flakes fall from the sky, their lightness enabling them to descent in a frolic matter, inviting me to play with them.

If I were the kind of person who enjoyed snow activities, such as ice skating and skiing, I would love it here. So many months of cold weather make excellent conditions for winter sports! But for some reason, I’m more of a runner, a biker, even a swimmer-in-the-sea kind of person. A fact that makes me think that there must have been some sort of delivery mistake made at some point – someone got it wrong.

My longing for Spring and Summer comes at odd times. Once, I was standing on the street, waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn from red to green. As the light turned green, my ears filedl with the loud sound of car tires trying to grasp the snowy, slippery road to get going – but without succeeding. I breathed in the smell of gasoline and enjoyed it because it made me think of Summer. It reminded me of all the youngsters on their motorbikes who roam the streets loudly, leaving behind them the smell of fuel and an odd silence.

Snow is a part of the Finnish identity – more than hundred names for the white fluff proves it. It’s also a frequent topic in the newspapers: how much snow will fall, how cold it will be, and if compared to the previous fifty years, is there more or less of snow, is the temperature colder or warmer than before.

For many, snow and snow-related activities are some of the best things about the four seasons of the North. The fluffy dogs love rolling around in it, the kids shriek with excited laughter as they go sledding down the hill.

Sometimes I like all the whiteness, how it brightens up the darkness and makes the sounds of the world softer. As I lie in bed under the warm blanket, another body pressed against mine, I like the snow. But even then I think, if I lived in Fiji, I could still experience this as a tourist, of my own choice.

I’m almost certain there was a mistake made by the mail delivery service back in time, 24 years ago. Why else would I think of these things? You see, Fiji doesn’t use zip codes but if you must include one, for online orders for example, you can use the code 00000. I was sent to Finland, with the zip code 00100.

A simple error in the zip code.

No wonder I’m here instead of being there.

Only a one-number-difference – a humane mistake that made all the difference.

The Cat Who Ate Too Much

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After a month-long break from my first draft of Yellow Tails, I took it out from the closet where I had hidden it and started reading the whole thing.

Now, I would like to share with you a few notions about reading a fictitious draft that was born under a longer-than-usual time period:

  1. When I began writing Yellow Tails, I hadn’t written any fiction in many years, except for the drafts I wrote during NaNoWriMo (successfully in 2016 and not so successfully during 2015 and 2014). I had only written essays and my Bachelor’s thesis, some random journal entries and that was all. And you know what? When a person then suddenly decides to start writing her first draft… well, the lack of practice in creative writing shows. The first 30–40 pages were awful. I literally had to take a break from the whole thing and do something else for a few hours to be able to continue reading it. I don’t know what I was expecting but certainly not that kind of reaction… However, as I kept reading I did realize something positive which leads me to point number 2.
  2. Write daily is a common advice given to many writers. For some it works, for some it doesn’t, but for me it definitely works. The effects of writing almost daily for ten months are only positive: not only has it improved my writing skills, but my endurance and ability to focus as well. So, after the first shock, I actually enjoyed many aspects of the story. I even had fun reading it (which is a positive sign, telling that I still like what I’ve written)!

However, what I’ve written requires a great deal of revising as I didn’t plan all that much during the writing process. But the good news is that despite the pantsing, my story seems to follow a story line and has a structure. To me it means Yellow Tails isn’t hopeless at all! Quite the contrary, it even seems to have potential!

At the moment, I’m reading a book about writing (general advice when it comes to structuring and what to think of when executing the different story arcs) and after I’m done with the book, I’ll start making the required changes to the structure and focus on the things that need improvement. We will see where the editing process takes me.

But what I know is that I’m really looking forward to getting started and make the story better than good.

Tell The Tail

I thought I could share a few things about the story itself. I believe it might help you, the reader, understand better what I’ll be talking about here from time to time, if you know what the story is about. I also think sharing something about the story helps me think of Yellow Tails as an actual book, something that’s becoming a real thing.

So, what is Yellow Tails about?

In short, it’s the personal development story of an overweight cat called Jello.

A bit longer version would be something like this:

Jello is a big, yellow, overweight cat who loves to spend his days organizing fondue parties to his little friends. However, when his longtime but long gone childhood friend suddenly returns to his life, Jello needs to figure out who he’s turned into and what he really wants with his life.

It is said that a novelist’s first book tends to be personal. Well, Yellow Tails certainly is that. The idea was born during a cycling session at the gym as I pictured in my mind Fit Diva stealing the cheese meant for Jello’s fondue parties and Jello getting all upset about it.

After that, I was unable to let go of the story setting and the characters. I had to write about them – and that is how Yellow Tails was born.

What The Story Is And Isn’t About

Yellow Tails is not a romantic story (but it does talk about love for food).

Although Jello is an overweight cat, the story doesn’t include dieting tips or exercise programs.

Neither does it contain any large-scale car-chase kind of action scenes. However, I can promise some wild fondue-partying. I find the mood of the story to be quite peaceful although there’s something happening all the time.

Yellow Tails has only three characters and takes place in one house, mainly inside the four walls and the round entrance hall. Some visits are made into the outside world.

Ultimately, it’s a story about change and what making a change entails for the mind, the body and the willpower. It’s also about how a change affects many more things than we primarily think it does.

***

So long, my friends and readers! Have an energetic Thursday!

Still Life Sunday: The Grand Production

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24 The Grand Production

Hotels are like grand theatre productions. You have the life on this side of the curtain, the one visible to the audience, and the other side behind the curtain, where the magic happens. But the magic cannot be seen during the daytime buzz. If you want to see it, you need to opt your timing.

And when is that?

It’s when you wake up at six in the morning to go to the gym for your morning workout or to take a dip in the cold sea, the first rays of sun warming your shivering skin. That is the time when you have the best chance to have a look behind the curtain.

This is what you could see:

In the stairs, you meet a beautiful latino woman who works as a cleaner at the hotel. As she wishes you good morning, you notice her beautiful (she is like a secret talent of the theatre but works as a side character, yet to be discovered).

In the long corridors, you see the cleaning lady, forehead heavy with wrinkles. She’s focused on vacuuming and you do not get her attention (she would be the grumpy caretaker of the theatre, better to watch out for her).

In the reception, two men: one of them has been up all night managing the desk and the other one has come early this morning to take over the shift. Both sip their coffee and chat idly, trying to keep themselves awake (they are two actors from the cast, tired from rehearsals).

And then there is the busybody – a man who seems to be all over the place, organizing the flower setting or straightening up piles of plates and cups that are waiting for the conference guests of the day (he’s the director’s right hand, obviously).

This is something you get to witness at six or seven in the morning. The curtains are still open, the set still somewhat chaotic, the staff running around fixing small details. But when the clock shows eight and most of the hotel room guests wake up to enjoy their breakfast buffet, the curtains close and the magic of it all is left behind the velvet.

The grand show is on.

The cleaners disappear as their shift is over. The tired night receptionist gets to go home for a good morning sleep. The busybody has finished all the tasks that require running around and can take a break, disappearing somewhere behind the curtain.

All the workers seem to improve their posture, build up a friendly smile that never leaves their faces when they work, ready for a new day at the Grand Hotel.

For the guests who make their first appearance of the day at eight, the Hotel is simply like on this side of the curtain – they would never guess the hustle and bustle that happens behind it.

But the early birds who take a morning dip in the sea, a relaxing moment in the sauna or a refreshing walk outside on the grounds – they get to see the production process of the Grand Show: the hustling of making everything seem perfect, the power structures behind the roles, all of the magic.

Most people only come to enjoy the show. But for those who are curious to know how the magic works, what happens behind the curtain… they can see it – if their timing is right.

The Additional 30

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What would you do if you were given thirty to sixty minutes extra to your day? First of all, would you need them? And second, how would you spend those minutes?

On Monday, like a fairy godmother, I gifted myself those extra minutes.

You see, after a few days of thinking, I decided to take a break from social media. Facebook but especially Instagram, to be specific.

For a few years now, I’ve lived my life consuming a minimal amount of time on social media and without sitting down to catch up on the daily news. Of course, in the society we live in today it’s almost impossible to live without some news coming in one’s attention or altogether without any information related to social media, but in my opinion, I’ve done pretty well.

However, when I started writing this blog in July last year, I decided to create an Instagram account to go with it. After all, many bloggers use Instagram as an additional media to share more details about their lives through photos and short captions, and it seemed to be a part of the whole thing.

Also, many writers are active on Instagram, sharing their writing related tips and experiences and in that way creating a community for writers, something I had been longing for. As I was on my own with the hushed mission to write my very first real novel, Instagram seemed like the perfect place to share and care about writing without having to keep the first draft as a complete secret.

Help, Tips and Inspiration

Being a writer on Instagram has many positive aspects. The community of writers on this platform is huge and many of the writers share actively their writing journey, describing the ups and downs, the achievements and the setbacks. In this way, I got support and perspective to the whole writing process. There is also a number of writing experts who are there to help you, answer your writing-related questions and cheer you on – for free!

In addition to this, Instagram has worked as a place for inspiration and especially motivation to keep on writing every day. It has also been a place where I’ve found many tips for fictional books, books about writing and helpful Youtube and Instagram accounts to follow.

In addition to that, I’ve used Instagram to get ideas for different meals and ways to do self-care. The platform really is great. I spent a good deal of time posting my own photos, writing captions, liking and commenting the photos of other users – and getting that warm and cozy feeling of a community.

But still, something with Instagram made me doubt if my efforts there were worth my time, thoughts and energy.

Time, Action, Trouble

When it comes to following people on social media, I’m quite picky. Especially on Instagram, I didn’t want to follow anyone whose content didn’t feel natural or similar to my own style and preferences. Therefore, I only followed approximately 90 different people on Instagram.

Although this isn’t that much (as many tend to follow up to 500 people), for me the feed very often felt like an information overload. There was so much to see, so much to reflect upon and maybe comment upon that after my morning scroll through Instagram, my brain felt fuzzy. And this was right before I was supposed to dive into writing a new blog post or continue writing Yellow Tails.

Also the amount of inspirational and motivations quotes, writing tips, book recommendations and thought-provoking questions became too much. Almost daily I took several screenshots of things I wanted to check up on later but that I always forgot until I every few days scrolled through my photos and wondered what all the screenshots were about. There was too much information, too many ideas that eventually led to more passive consuming rather than active creating of new thoughts and ideas. And stress because when was I supposed to find the time to go through all those books to read and videos to watch and skills to learn?

Instagram counts the minutes you spend on the app and tells you how much time on average you spend on scrolling, liking and commenting photos. For me, that number was somewhere between 30 and 60 minutes every day. On days when I published something the minutes ticked away quickly and especially after the New Year when I decided to put some effort into my Instagram Stories, I really started to spend time on the platform.

However, I saw few if any returns for the additional time I invested on spending on Instagram. Only a few more clicks to the blog, only one-tenth of my followers actually saw those Stories and I got no more followers, no matter how I tweaked and turned the content.

In addition to this, many of the principles behind creating a successful Instagram account don’t fall into my personal and beliefs which made it hard for me to get motivated to ”do the right things to get more successful”.

It felt as if I was wasting my time when I could have invested those minutes into doing something off-screen or learning new things. And this made me think if it was time to quit Instagram.

Peaceful and Productive

With these gut feelings and thoughts (what did I give to the platform – and what did I receive?), I decided to dig a little deeper into the social media detox and what the talk around it was about. I watched two videos, this and this, and read this post by Seth Godin. And in a nutshell, this is what I ended up with:

Social media is one form of entertainment but the platforms are made as addictive as possible, making them into some sort of personal slot machines you carry with you in your back pocket or your bag. The platforms invite you to check them every now and then, as often as possible, which leads to your attention becoming fragmented. And this attention fragmenting aspect of social media can permanently reduce your capacity to concentrate.

These facts sounded convincing to me. My attention span is one of the most important things to me as a writer and I certainly didn’t want to have it fragmented. And I wasn’t too excited about the thought of personal slot machines, either.

However, one of the reasons I got on Instagram as a writer (and a future author) was to create a platform through which I could market my book and share my journey. And I thought this: if I quit Instagram, will it have a negative effect on my future success? If I quit, will anyone find my book? After all, word of mouth is one of the most effective ways for a book to find its readers.

After a few days of thinking, I would like to answer my own question:

1) If I put my time and attention to post things on Instagram instead of investing that time in working on my book, I won’t have a book to talk about, and

2) I already have this blog which is month after month showing me that you people are interested in what I talk about (hi every 58 of you!) so why not invest more time on writing these entries instead of putting my energy in writing short captions few seem to read and react to anyway?

In other words: if you chase two rabbits at the same time, you’ll probably end up with nothing.

So, my worries of not having a Instagram account when I become an author are completely irrational and unnecessary. At the moment, at least.

Instead of spending time on these energy and time-consuming platforms, I can focus on doing things that I like and love (and get deeper into something called deep work which I hope to be able to get back into later on) and let the other things follow. Living without tiny but constant interruptions can help me be more productive and more peaceful. I have fewer things to divide my focus between, to check, to keep up with.

The additional 30 to 60 minutes per day I gain to my day when I’m not on Instagram or Facebook can be invested into learning new things, writing, learning to meditate… anything I can think of!

I mean, those minutes add up to 3,5–7 hours a week and 14–28 hours a month – that’s a good deal of time. It’s a huge amount of time. And I just gave those minutes, those hours to myself, like a true fairy godmother.

What would you do with those additional hours in your week or month?