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What I learned when I accidentally deleted all my pictures

Yep, I’m not very good at technology. My old smartphone died, so I bought another one – a previously loved one that is only 3 years old and seems to be just what I need. I managed to tranfer all my data from the old one to the new one and was feeling pretty good about life in general and my amazing tech wizardry skills.

I Should stick to this kind of phone…
Photo de cheptu00e9 cormani sur Pexels.com

Until, of course, I messed up. Though this phone is made by the same brand as the old one, the layout is different and I got confused. I wanted to delete ONE picture and ended up deleting an entire album. Or something like 650 pictures, from 2014 to December 2020. Photos of my kids, my cat, my holidays, my projects. Damn. I don’t take a lot of pictures if I compare to some people, but it was still heartbreaking, precisely because I generally only take pictures of stuff I really want to remember.

I’m not going to lie, I was really upset. I might have cried. Once the shock wore off, I tried to recover the files (spoiler alert: I couldn’t. My amazing skills were pretty limited after all). Then I sat and thought: now what? The shock slowly wore off, the feeling of loss replaced by the realisation that I hadn’t really lost anything. Alright, it sucks having lost a lot of my children’s pics. But I have the memories in my head, haven’t I? And honestly, how often do I look at those pictures in my phone? Almost never, that’s how often. There were here, I knew they were, but I didn’t look at them. From time to time I looked for one and ended up frustrated because there were too many of them and I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

After the panic wore off, I started to come to terms with the facts that I had lost those pictures. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible either. My husband takes more pictures than I do, beautiful ones with a real camera, and those photographs were safe on our drive at home, and a few of them in their printed form in albums. I was okay. I didn’t need 650 pictures that I never looked at anyway. It was, in fact, mostly clutter and I could do without it.

When I got home that night, I told my husband, who took my smartphone with an exasperated, yet fond eyeroll and managed *real* wizardry (it’s totally unfair, I’m telling you), recovering about two thirds of the deleted pictures from my SD card. I then spent the evening sorting those out, deleting another third of them before putting them back in my phone.

Sometimes loss is opportunity. In this case, it gave me the clarity needed to let go of most of the pictures I had, keeping only those I really care about. I probably wouldn’t have done it without that mishap, but I’m now glad it happened.

And that’s all for today, folks! As usual, be well, be kind, be thankful. Until next time!

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