My computer died this
week. It was a slow death that we saw
coming, but it caused some pain nonetheless.
I have not been the best about backing up my computer (okay, I have been
totally, utterly and completely remiss in backing up my computer), but when the
first signs of its demise reared its ugly head, I immediately...panicked,
bought some old school CDs, spent 5 hours trying to back up 4 years of my
children's photographed lives, gave up, called my husband in despair, called the
computer store, planned to pay them the stupid amounts of money to transfer my
hard drive, got a new computer, googled backing up my computer, and finally,
had my husband save everything for the cost of a mere $20 flash drive and a few
hours copying and transferring.
Its true: I panicked. Years of thinking "I should really back
this stuff up" came crashing down on me all at once. I was filled with shame and regret. and a deep sense that I had actually escaped
something that could have been much worse.
In the end, I did not lose my
stories, my work documents, the photographs of my artwork that are the basis of
my Etsy art/print sales, and most importantly, the past few years of my
children's lives.
We saved what we needed to
the flashdrive, transferred everything to the new computer and managed to make
the transition from one device to the next without any major losses and minimal tears.
I'm left feeling more in
control of my digital universe, more aware of how data transfers work and what
"backing up" really means.
I am thankful that it all
worked out.
And yet, it all still feels
tenuous---that my grasp on our past--the pictures, the documents, the videos,
that are the proof of our time here together on this planet, could be lost so
easily. It fills me with a sense that
its not all that real---that these digital files could disappear tomorrow. Even
as we print the pictures and create memory photo books, most of our life
remains digital.
Its a good reminder--not just
to back things up, but to back myself up, to look around, to embrace the
real--the here and now. If I lost those
pictures of our amazing trip to Disney, or worse, the pictures of my children's
births, or my sisters wedding, of my mom's 70th birthday, I would be
heartbroken. Truly Heartbroken. But its not as if those moments would not
have happened. They definitely happened
(I have the Disney cups, the stretchmarks, the messy playroom,) to prove
it. Life is not the same as the pictures
that document it. My memories and my
experiences are not the same as the facebook statuses and blog post recordings
that talk about them.
I'm not sure there is a
better lesson here than to back my stuff up.
A lesson that I should have learned a long time ago. And yet, I'm feeling like there is another,
perhaps sappier lesson to be learned as well.
I'm feeling grateful---and that my memories and my pictures and my work
are still around. But also, as I look
around, at my children, and my husband, at my stories, and my artwork, and my
friendships. I'm feeling mushy and grateful that they all exist, that in fact I
has so much documentation to lose. and that my life is real and full outside of
the digital files that I have used to record it.
