I have Anxiety.
I have a hard time unplugging. A really hard time. I’ve always known it, but I’ve never addressed it. Turns out when you go to therapy, they help see your blind spots, but also the things you’re choosing to ignore.
For as long as I can remember, I have used some kind of device to distract myself from feeling hard feelings.
When I was in elementary school, I used AOL chat and computer games to avoid facing math homework.
When I got a cell phone in 8th grade, I would call/ text any chance I got so I wouldn’t have to practice my dance routines or face my parents.
When texting became popular, I liked that I could communicate with someone without having them look me in the eye. Back when you had to pay per text message… that became a problem lol.
When I got an iPod in high school (around the time of Hurricane Katrina) I would spend hours zoning out and trying to connect with the sounds and lyrics. I could feel something, but I didn’t have to talk about it.
When Instagram came around, I could post a picture and say what I felt about it without any consequences.
When we moved to another country, I could use social media to somehow feel connected to people.
When Tim goes out of town, and I’m tired after a long day, I enjoy watching a movie (like Pride and Prejudice) that I’ve seen 100 times. It’s familiar. I know what to expect and it comforts me when I’m in the house alone.
When starting this coaching business, I have used work tasks on my phone and computer to drown out the stress of everything else around me.
And yet… I still always feel isolated. Never actually fulfilled. Constantly on edge. Racing thoughts I am always trying to avoid. And it’s finally catching up to me at 33. I have anxiety that has always been mended by some kind of device. You can’t tell from the outside. You can’t see it because I became skilled at hiding it. Swallowing it hole has been how I cope with it—and I know now that’s not healthy.
I didn’t just wake up one day deciding I needed to ask for help. It happened slowly over time. It started to bleed into every area of my life and in turn, impacting the ones I love most. Honestly, I think it will get worse before it gets better. Baby steps. Just like I tell my clients. I can’t expect big jumps forward. I have to meet myself where I’m at.
So while talking about it on here helps, it doesn’t fix it. Asking for help. Talking about it human to human helps. Getting outside helps. A good cry helps. Hugs help. And kind of connection that doesn’t involve a screen helps. And what’s ridiculous to me … is that the one thing I’m desperate for is human connection. To be vulnerable with other humans. And it’s the exact thing I’m always running from.
You weren’t meant to face hard things alone. Being an independent lone wolf has a price—isolation. How often are you using a screen to avoid real connection?
