Kirsty Bosley: The troops weren't the only ones battling war

I couldn't look at pictures of my friend's faces, couldn't find out what they were having for dinner. I missed out on updates about people's children potty training and had no idea, for a whole hour, what was going on in the news.

For a brief time I felt utterly disconnected from the world.

Things have come a long way in my lifetime, and I'm still in my twenties. Getting in touch with my loved ones is as little as two buttons away. Thanks to technology, I can now say to my phone 'call Alix' and my little hand-held device will ring my best friend for me. I don't even have to remember her number.

As we approach the centenary of the First World War, I have been having more than just two minutes silent reflection.

My dear friend Rhiannon recently jetted off to India travelling, and as I said goodbye to her, it broke my heart. She flew away with her backpack, camera and phone and within 36 hours, had messaged me to tell me she was safe and sightseeing.

Imagine then saying goodbye to a loved one that was set to fly into conflict? My fears for Rhiannon were of being ripped off by some cab driver in Delhi, or of having to sleep in a grimy hotel room with no WiFi. That is enough to strike the cold icy chill of horror into my heart, so how I'd feel if she were away, constantly one bullet away from death, is unimaginable.

Standing at a train station and kissing goodbye to your loved ones as they travelled away into war must have been the most difficult feat. News of the wellbeing of brothers, husbands and fathers would be carried home by paper and pen, taking weeks or months to arrive.

For the years that the Great War lasted, surely no one slept a wink – people must have been out of their minds with worry. People back then were made of sterner stuff than me.

These days, the word hero is thrown around willy-nilly. The term legend is used to describe almost anyone that does anything that's even slightly cool. You got the beers in? You legend. You took your Nan's bins out? What a hero.

In 2014 our armed forces head out into conflict with bravery, knowing what horror might lie ahead and signing up anyway. They chose to go into the army the same way that I chose to be a writer – it was a career path that they took.

One hundred years ago, our men did not have the same choices. It was not fight or write – fighting was the only option. Teenagers wore the uniform, were handed a gun and went to war, with no option to send their mothers a text on arrival to let them know that they were safe.

They were not safe.

As we look back on the First World War, my two minutes of silence are dedicated not only to the memory of those lives lost, but to the strength and resilience of those left at home, battling their own wars every single day until their loved ones returned to them.