On my way to town this morning for a beauty treatment and some me time mooching around the shops by the river, I got half way and realised I had forgotten my phone. My faithful blackberry was not with me. I was consumed with panic, I was alone. Totally alone. I say I had planned some me time… what I probably should have said was ‘me and my blackberry’ time. I had no time to go back for it, I had to continue…alone.
On the radio yesterday there was a news bulletin about the number of people apparently addicted to their mobile phones, and after my terrifying realisation this morning, there is certainly no denying it. But what is it about our phones that mean we cannot be without them?
I am certainly not addicted to the phone itself – it makes annoying noises (specifically chosen so I know the ringing is mine), and the keys are too small for any human to use. So what was it that went through my mind this morning in the moment of shock when I realised I had left it behind? There was nothing to save me from awkward moments when we all opt to pretend to text or suddenly have an urgent phonecall we must attend to, if my appointment time was changed there would be no way of knowing, and what if a member of my family picked it up and browsed my messages and pictures?! Shock horror!!
But the thing that got to me most was that if someone wanted to get hold of me, or simply chat to me, they couldn’t. If I wanted to get in touch with someone, I couldn’t. So is this what we are all afraid of? Being alone? Being isolated and cut off from our friends and family? I have always been one for ‘me time’ and I am quite happy in my own company, but ‘me time’ without my blackberry? Another matter altogether!! Is it the physical confirmation that we have people who talk to us, that want to communicate with us that makes us so attached to our phones?
It is a natural human instinct to want to be with and in touch with others. Rarely do you find a human living completely isolated from society, and completely alone, and it is very sad if we do. So I don’t think we should criticise or question our addiction to our phones for the love of communication; it is necessary for survival. What I do think we should question is our fear of being on our own. Once I had relaxed into the fact that my phone and I were going to spend the morning apart, I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was nice not to feel obliged to be a call centre. It was nice to really recognise what I was feeling, what I was doing, and how I was interacting with those around me.
It is ok to be on your own. You don’t need constant reassurance of who you are and the fact that people love you. You are loved and appreciated; the fact that you have contacts on your phone proves this. People always care. So take the time to trust this; trust the support network you have around you, and learn what it feels like just to be you.
Take the leap, leave your phone behind and go out on your own. You’ll be ok. Your phone and your friends will still be waiting for you when you get back. Mine was… on the kitchen table, exactly where I had left it.
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