Childlessness Hits Differently: Digital Glimmers

I take a lot of photos. Always have done. The mountains of pre-mobile-phone printed photos we have scattered around are a testament to that. Currently, I have around 750GB worth of photographic data sitting in the cloud.

When I used to cycle with my mates, I’d be well known to just stop dead and take a photo of the view if I thought it was worth a picture. I have thousands of photos from our travels around the world—some of my wife and I, some of just her, and some of just me. And, much to the chagrin of popular culture, I have plenty of photos of food as well.

In a society where a person's camera roll is culturally expected to track children’s first steps, school terms, and graduations, mine tracks a completely different journey.

Now, I can’t quite believe I’m going to type this. I am definitely not one of those ‘wellness’ influencers who, more often than not, turn out to be grifters. Yet, I think I’ve inadvertently stumbled across… and yes, I am cringing as I type this… a wellness tool of sorts.

But first, we need to pivot a little.

Back in the late 90s at my then-place of employment, we had a department manager who was the warm and fuzzy type. He believed a humanistic approach to management was far better than the sociopathic alternative. He sent a group of us on a training course based on Stephen Covey’s The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. It is too far back in the dim and distant past for me to remember most of it now and at this age and with much more worldly experience, it’s likely just common-sense stuff anyway. But what I do remember was his concept of the ‘emotional bank account’.

Covey's belief is simple: you make deposits through kindness and honesty to keep a relationship healthy.

This really resonated with me. It became the basis of how I try to conduct my life. I know I’m not perfect at it, but on the whole, I feel it’s been a pretty successful way to exist, keep that in mind as we progress.

One of the positives I genuinely enjoy from my social media obsession is how both Facebook and Google feed me my photographic memories. Only this morning, I was reminded of a day 14 years ago (oh, the photos go back way further than that!). We were in London watching the Changing of the Guard. Then it showed me a moment from 12 years ago, cycling with my mates on a beautiful winter morning. Then, a memory from last year, carving timber for our gazebo in the workshop.

In our Full Stop online community, Sarah, who runs our wellbeing space, often talks about ‘Glimmers’. For some strange reason—which I don’t think we need to dive into right now—it never used to make sense to me. My mind always just defaulted to glitter!

A "glimmer" (a term originally coined by polyvagal theory expert Deb Dana) simply refers to micro-moments of safety, joy, or connection that calm our nervous system. They are the exact opposite of triggers.

As childless people, our everyday social media feeds can frequently feel like a minefield of traditional family milestones. If you aren't careful, it's easy to let a hypernatalist world dictate what a meaningful life is supposed to look like.

And that is why I finally get it now. All those lovely digital memories being served to me? These are my glimmers. They are the undeniable proof of a full, authentic life lived differently, and I realise now that there are days when I need to be reminded of this as I’m not immune to the swell of grief from time to time.

So it would seem that unintentionally, loosely using Stephen Covey’s theory, I’ve built a digital emotional bank account for myself.

The cloud acts as a sort of automated emo-financial manager. It takes my daily deposits of photos and, years later, serves them back to me with compounding emotional interest—helping me recall a feeling I might have otherwise entirely forgotten. Which, as I age, is becoming a more frequent occurrence.

I’ve even been known to manually scroll through my photos on those bad days when you just need a little emotional pick-me-up. Mind you, I do have some housekeeping to do. There is a lot of practical noise in there right now—like shopping lists, screenshots, and price tags—that needs clearing out.

While my camera roll doesn't feature the traditional societal milestones, it is overflowing with landmarks of a different kind of life: our travels, sunrises, sunsets, our deeply loved pets who have passed away, and things we have proudly built with our own hands in the workshop.

I tend to find myself completely immersed in reminiscing when presented with these photo memories. I'll wonder, was it warm or cold that day? Sometimes the memory triggers a specific smell, a taste, or a sound.

We have a favourite photo—a selfie on a bridge in Venice, with the reflection of the sunset bleeding into the canal in the background. I can still feel that warm evening, the hustle and bustle of the crowd, and that unmistakable, unforgettable scent of the Venetian canals. It instantly unlocks the memory of the old monastery we stayed in for a few nights before boarding a cruise through the Mediterranean. See what I mean, these photos are like keys to the vault of our experiences.

I think I’m onto a good thing here, and it warrants a bit of intentional strategy. Firstly, I need to tidy up my storage and get rid of the logistical junk so that all my remaining glimmers are pure gold.

And if this interests you, statistically, if you take just three intentional "glimmer" photos a week, in five years your automated emotional bank account will have over 750 custom moments of joy waiting to support you on one of those metaphorical rainy days.

But if you are like me, you’ll take it one step further. When those memories pop up, pause for a minute. Actively remember the environment you were in—the smell, the taste, the sounds, and the people.

Of course, we can't predict when low periods or stressful times will hit, but we can absolutely prepare for them.

Start making those small deposits today. Your future self will thank you for it.