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Is This OK?: One Woman's Search For Connection Online

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as a writer myself, I found myself relating so heavily to Harriet's experiences with people she obsesses over online and thinks are too amazing and beautiful and talented to ever live up to. she's constantly acutely aware of her own feelings of imposter syndrome, feeling too basic, untalented, and stupid... always comparing herself to those around her who seem to be able to have original ideas and know how to pull the right words from their brain al

Purchasing a book may earn the NS a commission from Bookshop.org, who support independent bookshops Is This OK? is a memoir, full of finely told stories that were once secrets existing only in the writer’s mind; addictions, obsessions, weirdnesses. Gibsone came of age at the same time as the internet, her own development shaped by its strange currents. She chooses episodes from her life and makes some of them funny – laugh-out-loud-on-the-train funny; some of them are frightening and sad. Many illuminate a bigger truth about living at this peculiar time and in the grey area between the online and offline worlds. That is, of course, where many of us spend hours each day, without fully realising it, even as researchers warn us of the negative impact on self-esteem and mental health.Music Journalist, self-professed creep and former winner of the coveted ‘Fittest Girl in Year 11’ award, Harriet Gibsone lives in fear of her internet searches being leaked. And so begins a dual journey: my quest to get pregnant, and my battle against the demon hormones’: Harriet Gibsone with her son. Photograph: Kate Peters/The Guardian Most of the rest of the book is Gibsone writing about her bland life with not much more about parasocial relationships. There are some parts about Myspace stalking and whatnot but nothing outside the ordinary for anyone that lived through that era. The book does go off the rails a bit with a deranged dirty disabled toilet fantasy about equally bland Chris Martin but it's not as amusing as the author probably thinks it is. Ella speaks a lot on social media and on her podcasts about the benefits of hypnobirthing: a method of pain management that involves mindful breathing and visualisations, and a woman I work with claims her baby slipped out like a bar of soap thanks to breathwork alone. I Google local classes and sign up for the nearest session.

A year of medical tests, desperate anticipation, thousands of pounds of IVF drugs and a sister pumped full of insane hormones. We are all broken; Mark and I spend the day walking around our local park, avoiding buggies. I get it, and I definitely related to her struggle, as I am also a massive overthinker, but reading an entire book of someone else putting themself through this repeatedly made me feel small, tired, embarrassed and depressed. On the plus side, it also made me resolve to work on my own issues and ease off on the overthinking (thankfully I am not also a cyber-stalker!), so that is a positive outcome from the read! Hoodwinking her audience into thinking she is flawed and chaotic, just as susceptible to heartache and humiliation as the rest of us. Using her alleged inadequacies to puncture the veneer of superiority and manipulate the public into investing in her. It’s a classic trait of a good old-fashioned people-pleaser, fearful of the displeasure of others, willing to throw oneself under the bus in a plea for connection, approval and love. As life has evolved, there has been a constant stream of objects of lust and intrigue, each of which has warped my interior world during a crisis. Take puppy-dog stadium pop-god Chris Martin. The Coldplay frontman has enjoyed a 20-year residency in the front of my brain. Imagined scenarios of us together on Christmas Day or schmoozing side by side at a celebrity shindig have dragged me through the drabbest afternoons. obsessed with this book!! it perfectly encapsulates what it's like to grow up online and be caught in the lifelong search for connection while capturing the changing culture and social media of the 2000s, 2010s, and 2020s. Harriet Gibsone manages to write about all the embarrassing and cringeworthy stuff we do and think and the reasons behind them—the things we seldom admit to anyone else, the things that no teen coming-of-age comedy has ever explored with half as much cringe, humour, and honesty as Gibsone. there's something so special and specific about her writing, the way she blends humour and relatability, while displaying a generous amount of vulnerable, is a skill so impressive that it floored me.You won’t be able to do IVF – you have a low egg supply, and your ovarian supply will not respond to IVF drugs.” This is a twist. I had skipped over the fertility details on Google, assuming there would be a simple scientific solution to my eggs being low. This is one of those pivotal moments: the ones where women stand up for themselves at the doctors. Demanding answers. Not leaving until they have their way. I’ve heard about them, and only in my wildest dreams have I imagined being obstinate in the face of a health professional. Harriet the Spy is a 1964 childrens’ book about a little girl who snoops relentlessly on her neighbours. Harriet Gibsone did the same thing when she was young. Now in her late 30s, she still shares with the fictional Harriet a powerful imagination and endless fascination with others. Harriet the Spy was banned in a number of American schools; apparently morally upright people didn’t approve of watchful girls trying to figure out the world on their own terms. I love these characters, nurturing as they do some feeling of control in a world where they do not have any. At 7am the next day I get a call from an unknown number. A nurse from the hospital. She has bad news. None of the eggs has fertilised.

It’s not great news. I’ve got premature ovarian insufficiency and I’ve got less than 5% chance of getting pregnant on my own,” I shout while walking through the rush-hour crowds. Suddenly staring down years of IVF, HRT and other invasive medical treatments, her relationship with the internet takes a darker turn, as her online addictions are thrown into sharp relief by the corporeal realities of illness and motherhood. While the overall theme of the book is internet culture, and the authors relationship to that, it also has a pretty interesting look into the indie music scene of 2007-2010, as she was working for a free music magazine during that time period. It’s not her fault that this is her life. She is just trying to promote positive birth stories so others aren’t afraid. But maybe they should be frightened? Women and babies still die in birth, and it’s not because they’ve not meditated hard enough; it’s because it’s seismic and unpredictable. And once the pain and blood of birth have finished, you are filled with psychological savagery on the other side. The first few days of motherhood are brutal. The level of high-functioning performance required is unparalleled. It’s like stumbling on stage at the start of the Oscars, your body bloodied and broken from a plane crash, and you’re handed a mic and told you’re hosting the whole gig, but if the jokes aren’t good enough, the audience dies.given that morally ambiguous weird girl behaviour, '00s social media, online micro-communities and the blurred lines between url and irl are literally my favourite things to read about, i'm probably part of the exact audience gibsone set out to target with this book. i found her writing style funny and endearing, so didn't mind the few tangents that did little for plot progression. her deep dive into deliciously ella's pregnancy/birth/mum journey compared to hers is my fave part of the book. highly recommend! The latter half of the book takes a turn, with talk of chronic illness, infertility, having a newborn, and dealing with a traumatic birth, just as the pandemic sinks its teeth into the world. I really felt for the author during these chapters, and I hope that she’s in a better place now. The book feels split into two halves - one, Hattie’s youth and escapades in the music journalism game, and two, her more recent adult life, covering the pressures of work, becoming a parent, the early menopause and other difficulties Hattie writes about with honesty and transparency. I found myself both laughing out loud at times, and feeling sad at others. It’s raw and real and human. I was left seeking some kind of additional closure, but perhaps that’s for another book in the future. As life has evolved, there has been a constant stream of objects of lust and intrigue.’ Photograph: Kate Peters/The Guardian. Makeup and hair: Dani Richardson using RMS Beauty and Kevin Murphy. Top: Pavement For me, the book is also further evidence of the dangers of social media and comparing yourself with others, who are often painted in an unnaturally perfect way.

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