Out of nowhere, my less than 2 year old well-running HP computer, suddenly confronted me with the terrifying blue screen of death. And the resulting hours of anxiety did not end well. I will spare the gory details of why so many hours of work were instantly squashed into nothingness. What I want to point out is the baffling concepts of thought that went through my head over the 24 hours after the event.

I felt like I had been shot. I pictured a wound in my side…a gaping hole which I covered with bandages but did not want to see. I wanted to cover it up with gauze and avoid facing the damage, exactly how much was lost- videos, projects, presentations, pictures, documents, and programs that represented hard work and irreplaceable creative energy. It wasn’t that I had no clue about the danger of losing files and had not taken any precautions. I did have all of my current work (my dissertation for sure!) in numerous other locations, such as flash drives, external hard drives, the cloud, and emails to myself.

It was 8pm when the terror struck. I slept little that night. What kept me calm was the empathy and genuine concern I was given from my immediate family. First thing the next morning, my husband and son both sprang into action to investigate a data recovery system specialist. In the afternoon, a phone conversation with my daughter changed my perspective.

You see, I was confused and appalled at the feeling of loss over digital content. I am not one to have many attachments to physical objects. As a writing teacher, one of my projects to promote writing was the creation of paper mache storybowls. After creating a storybowl to represent a personal narrative, the writer/teller places small objects in the bowl that correspond to elements of the story. I made several storybowls over the course of a few years, one in which I tell about the time I lost my wedding ring! Actually, using the storybowl, I weave stories of other rings I have lost- one on my move to Texas at the age of twelve- a ring my father gave me which I lost in the Niabrara River. The theme of loss culminates with loss of my wedding ring- the most important of symbols. However, the point of the story is that what the ring represents is love. My husband gave me another ring exactly like the one I lost. I never found my father’s ring which is somewhere deep in the Niabrara River, but I did not lose what it represents…love.

Unfortunately, one day in my library, my storybowls were thrown out inadvertently in the trash! I was a bit embarassed to admit to myself the anguish I felt over the loss of my storybowls. They were physical representations of significance to me…my life stories.

As I experience my physical library going through a metamorphosis from physical to virtual, I am not always comfortable with the chaos, with the letting go, with the constant change in formats and in my own thinking. As I watch everyone becoming “hooked” on their tech gadgets, constantly updating statuses and checking emails, I can’t help but wonder if we are heading in the wrong direction or if we will find a balance between the physical and the virtual.

And then…as I experienced the blue screen of death, I realized that digital loss feels exactly like physical loss.

Back to the phone conversation with my daughter Melanie.

She began talking with me about how we attach ourselves to “things”. We have a friend who suffers from the debilitating problem of hoarding physical things. Although I am not qualified to explain the psychological reasons for hoarding, I suppose our attachment to digital files might be similar to our attachment to physical objects. Again and again, throughout our lives, we are required to let go. Melanie explained to me, with an expression of understanding and empathy, that while this loss can be painful- it can also be liberating. We let go of the non-essential and our burden is lightened.

My wound is healing. I may receive a call soon from the data restoration services guy (but I am fairly sure all of my data was lost). What is helping me gain strength after meeting the blue screen of death is the caring support of others. My storybowl about my lost rings was thrown out, but I did not lose what it meant. The Beatles were right. All you need is love.