Reassurance

The more I sign in here to write, the more I realize how many saved drafts I have in comparison to actual published posts.

So here's my stab at hitting publish on something that should've gone up about 10 months ago...


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Reassurance. Pat on the back. Green light. Thumb's up. Double tap.

Whatever it is, it's something we rely on. And when I say we, I really mean me, but I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one out there in this boat.

I had my yearly review this week (which is still crazy to me to think how fast the last year has gone) but in my review this word came up a few times during the 10 minutes of the review that was allocated to "areas of improvement."

"Amanda has great instincts, but often needs her peers' reassurance to pull the trigger," was just one of the examples of use.

And it got me thinking, how this is a common thread within my life even outside of work. A common thread that if I'm not mistaken, is a common theme in a lot of people in this generation.

The need for reassurance. The desire to know that other people support you and are backing whatever it is you're doing or thinking.

First and foremost, with work I agree. I am someone who is not only afraid to mess up, (and have always been) but I'm someone that relies on someone else giving me a thumbs up before I can commit to a solution 9 times out of 10.

But I'm not here to talk about how I would answer a future interview question of "what's your weakness." I'm more so observing how much reassurance we as a society, as a generation, or whatever, have become dependent on.

I mean think about it. Think about the last photo you uploaded to Instagram and how many times you checked to see how many likes you got. Think about how you purposely staged a picture to post on Facebook because you knew people would react positively to it. Think about the last time you texted your friends in a group chat to get a certain reaction out of them, only to find that nobody responds.

Even when I'm writing my blog as I'm doing right now, I often think about whether or not people will react to it or even read it; whether or not I will get the reassurance that I need in order to keep publishing.

I'd be ignorant if I sat here and blamed social media; if I truly believed that a means of communication on the internet was the sole reason we as a civilization rely so heavily on the reassurance of others. But then I think about it, and I wonder why I feel the way I feel when I check my instagram 50 times to see how many likes I got.

I wonder why I rewrite the same sentence 15 times before I finally move on. I wonder why I can't pull the trigger on something or why I can't be enough reassurance for myself instead of relying on others, and I ultimately draw a blank.

What is it about needing this reassurance? Is it insecurities, or the constant desire for attention in this chaotic and saturated world of social media and noise? Or is it because we as a generation have become so obsessed with ourselves with our 'selfies' and our public-pats-on-the-back that we need this reassurance to know that we're not totally crazy and egotistical? And don't get me wrong, I've posted a fair amount of selfies, so no judgement here.

Wherever it stems from and whatever generational excuse we can blame it on, it's still present. The want and need for someone to sign off on it in whatever arbitrary way shape or form that entails. Why does 75 likes on an Instagram photo make you feel better about yourself than 2?

Or better yet, what does it mean if your two very best friends in the world like your photo, but only those two, and the next photo 100 acquaintances like it, but not your two best friends, then what does that do for reassurance?

Food for thought.