I recently participated in my first IGTV Q&A. The subject was fashion in the time of coronavirus, and I thought I did great. I hit all the talking points and relayed the state of the fashion industry whilst expanding out to the bigger picture, like a swift twist of a camera’s lens, duly noting that during this global health pandemic, of course, no one has been spared.
A couple hours after signing off, I decided to watch the stream to ensure that I did, in fact, do great. I didn’t. During more than half my dialogue, my eyes were directed nowhere near my iPhone’s camera, as though I was watching the clouds go by from the window inside my living room. It appeared like I was completely disengaged from my interviewer.
Mid-way through my next Zoom call, a standard weekly update with a dozen or so colleagues, I noticed my eyes once again floating around, even during my own contributions to the conversation. When I returned them to the screen, back on the virtual eyes of one of my colleagues, I felt a pang of extreme discomfort. At that very moment, they could see me, seeing them, and the connection was too much for me to handle. I instantly darted my eyes away and back to safety. Of course, on a multi-person Zoom call, no one really knew I was looking at them. The sequence of faces is different for every respective user but even with the anonymity, it still feels like a staring contest with whoever you’ve decided to lock eyes with.
Among the many phrases that have been added to our cultural vernacular as of late include “socially distanced,” “flatten the curve,” and “Zoom fatigue.” Being unquantifiable, the latter seems the hardest to define, but Zoom fatigue is a well-reported repercussion of spending hours on end video conferencing—whether for business or pleasure. Could the next accepted video chat-induced anxiety be the one I’m experiencing? Do I have Zoom intimacy issues?
We’ve understood that digital conversations with Brady Bunch-style talking heads are draining. It requires more effort to focus during a video chat, and it’s thus more exhausting than an in-person exchange. “It doesn’t feel as dialogic. It doesn’t feel like a conversation at times. It’s people lecturing at people, which can be tiring,” says psychotherapist Jeffrey B. Rubin, Ph.D. Amid a global pandemic, which has most of us as sensitive as a sunburn, this can have us feeling completely deflated by the day’s end. But how does intimacy factor into all of this? Well, Zoom and video conferencing are inherently intimate—so when done from the home, they can feel incredibly invasive.