The email pings that conveniently came with my fully equipped iPhone are running my life. Literally. When I first gave in and accepted this crack-infused device from my honey (who wouldn’t convert with a FREE phone?) I thought that reading and responding to emails throughout the day would simply increase my income. You know, because the hour to two hours it would normally take me to respond was actually keeping me from earning millions. Or so I thought.
In reality, it has increased my anxiety and awakened some deep seeded belief that I need to keep my foot in the proverbial door THE ENTIRE DAY in order to not miss that little kernel of opportunity that might pass me by- even if it means interrupting a deep conversation or responding sans clothing while getting ready. Even worse? I have begun sleep-checking emails when some inconsiderate SOB decides I need some vital information at 3:30 am. Seriously people- this is a whole new breed of addiction not yet addressed by the “anonymous” clan.
While the first step would probably be to shelve my precious phone and stick with one not so intent on connecting me to the rest of world ALL THE TIME, I know that an alcoholic can’t be cured by pouring the booze down the drain (besides, I wouldn’t give my child up that easily). In truth, my need to always feel like I am receiving information as it comes in is a symptom of having the inability to trust the process. It’s as if I am telling the universe, “I know you aren’t really paying attention to what I need, so I’ll just take it from here.” And that is fucking exhausting.
I have been blessed to know from experience that things always work out. Always. No exceptions. Even if opportunities don’t fall into place as I had imagined or a door closes that I had thought would be open a little bit longer- everything is exactly as it should be. Besides, putting life on the back burner in order to micro manage little tasks or check uninformative emails that mean squat in the long run is no way to live. Period.
Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, I am setting a dangerous precedent for the rest of my career by being the employee that won’t throw a hissy fit if an employer attempts to chat about a project on Christmas morning or talk numbers late Sunday night. So next time I have one foot in the shower or I’m dreaming about getting some multi-million dollar book deal, I will try my hardest to ignore that little email ping. My sanity depends on it.