I was born before the shortcut
I Was Born Before the Shortcut
I was born in the mid-70s. I came up in the 80s and 90s.
And I’m grateful I did.
We didn’t have computers in every room. We had libraries, pay phones, and patience. If you wanted to know something, you looked it up. You drove to the library, pulled a book off a shelf, and wrote it down by hand. If you wanted to talk to a friend, you called their house and asked their parents first. If they weren’t home, you waited. We learned how to wait.
We worked hard because there were no hacks. No apps to do the thinking for us. You wrote the essay. You showed up to the job. You got lost and asked for directions instead of letting a voice tell you where to turn. Shortcuts didn’t exist the way they do now. You either did the work or you didn’t. And if you didn’t, you felt the consequence.
That’s the piece I worry about with the next generation — the kids raised on social media and AI. Everything is instant. Answers without searching. Friends without meeting. Validation without earning it. AI can write your paper, filter your photo, and tell you what to think before you’ve had a chance to form a thought. And I see what it’s doing.
Mental illness is out of control right now. Yes, there are many factors — trauma, genetics, economics, isolation. But I’d be lying if I said social media wasn’t pouring gas on the fire. I’ve lived with mental illness. I know what it’s like when your mind isn’t safe. And I know how fast that gets worse when you’re scrolling at 2am, comparing your real life to someone else’s highlight reel. When you’re messaging strangers at all hours and calling it connection. When you’re becoming obsessed with content, with likes, with being seen, and forgetting how to just be.
We didn’t have that growing up. Boredom was normal. Loneliness was normal. And we had to sit with it. We had to call a real friend, or go outside, or write in a journal that no one would ever read. That taught us something: how to self-soothe without an audience. How to solve problems without Google. How to be alone without panicking.
That’s why I believe refraining from social media — or using it responsibly — is crucial now. Not because I’m anti-technology. I use a computer for my PhD. I watch YouTube. But I set boundaries because I have to. For my mental health, and for my life.
Here’s what that looks like for me:
1. I don’t message people I don’t know. I grew up when “stranger danger” was real. If we didn’t meet in person, you didn’t get access to me. That boundary still keeps me safe.
2. I don’t let content run my day. If I catch myself scrolling and my chest gets tight, I put the phone down. I go make coffee. I go outside. I remember I had a life before the feed.
3. I don’t take the shortcut. AI can help me brainstorm, but it can’t live my life. It can’t do my healing. It can’t take my walk, pay my rent, or show up to Oxford House. That’s on me.
I’m not saying my way is better for everyone. But I am saying this: I’m glad I learned how to work before there was an app for it. I’m glad I learned how to be bored before there was an endless scroll to numb it. I’m glad I learned how to be a person before I learned how to be a profile.
The 80s and 90s weren’t perfect. But they gave me grit. They gave me patience. They gave me the ability to sit with discomfort instead of outsourcing it to a screen.
And in a world where mental health is unraveling for so many, I think those old skills are the new survival skills.
So I’ll keep my boundaries. I’ll keep my jeans and sweatshirt and my coffee shop table. I’ll keep doing the hard things the slow way. Because I know what it costs to take the shortcut. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it.
And I choose to be present instead.
*Cathrynmharris
