Googling my name became an obsession, every hour of every day – I needed help | Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani
ILooking at my computer screen, I blinked in disbelief. I had just typed my name into Google and was flabbergasted to see page after page of results about me. It was April 2009 and I was a new author in Nigeria. My first book was about to be released and I had no idea how much pre-publication buzz the international publishing world generates. A year earlier, Googling my name had yielded only four results – mostly related to my old school’s alumni website. Now there were 600 and I was devouring them all; reviews, blogs and comments. But my fascination soon turned into something much darker as I became addicted to searching my name on Google at all hours of the day.
The signs of my addiction were more subtle than those of an alcoholic or drug addict, but they disrupted my life just as much. Mobile internet and smartphones were unusual luxuries in Nigeria at the time, with only 9% of the 156 million inhabitants have internet access. My habit of searching for my name online was limited to when I was working in the office, or at home tethered to an unreliable external modem. When I was out with friends, I would ask to borrow their laptop or phone. I would excuse myself from gatherings and lock myself in a corner of a friend’s room to be near the internet modem.
During the periods when there was nothing new about me on the internet for days, I would constantly refresh the page. The moment a new listing finally appeared was euphoric, making all the previous hours of clicking and waiting worth it. Over time, I discovered that my name was perhaps one of the most misspelled names on the planet, so I adjusted my search habits to include spelling errors: Adoabi, Adaobe, Adobe, Adoabe, Trisha, Nwambani, Nwanbani, Nwubani, Nwabani, Uwaubani, Unwabani, Nwabuani, Nwabauni. I was determined not to miss a single result.
In April 2010, I was invited to New Delhi, India, for a writers’ awards ceremony. During a week of events, I found myself at a school, flanked by two other authors, fielding questions from students. One in particular struck a chord. The student wanted to know if we Googled our own names and, if so, how often. Her question brought laughter from the room. But it caught me completely off guard. Up until that point, I had been living under the impression that my incessant habit of typing my name into Google was a private addiction. A personal neurosis that was mine alone.
My fellow authors and I continued our conversation after leaving the venue. One of them told me about a friend, a world-famous novelist, who had set up a Google alert for his name. When they spent time together, his phone would send out constant pings that would draw his attention back to the screen. A rising sense of panic washed over me as the realization dawned: I was not alone in my obsession, but a newcomer to a broader community of digital fixated people. A vision of my future self loomed, chained to the incessant pings of my phone, tormented by mental turmoil. When I got home to Nigeria, I resolved to free myself from the grip of what I had finally recognized as a behavioral disorder.
My graduate degree in psychology came in handy when I began a self-imposed program to regain control over my Googling. I started with a modest goal of one hour, and I used all my willpower to stop myself from Googling my name. The rule was simple: Only after the clock had ticked for 60 minutes could I indulge in my habit, and consider it a reward for my patience. Over time, I increased the challenge—to two hours, then longer and longer, until I reached a point where I was only searching my name once a week, and eventually once a month. The gradual increase in the intervals between searches weakened the compulsive urge, and my brain’s craving for the ritual of searching diminished.
It’s been 13 years since I managed to kick the habit. I still search for the titles of my books or type my name into specific websites to find articles I’ve written, but the last time I Googled my name was in January 2011. Friends, colleagues, and bosses have tried at various times to tell me about the benefits of keeping up with what’s being said about me online. “So you can address any mistakes or negativity,” one said. But I know how quickly I can fall back down the rabbit hole. Regaining control over my own mind was too precious to take that risk.