When you're addicted to technology (and you detox, but then need to come back home)

don't come back, just stay there

Originally posted on my Medium account.

you love vacations but you take your smartphone too

What could be worse than coming home from a vacation after successfully detoxing yourself from the everyday technology that rules your life?

You think you need it. You think you are so important and if you go without your updates or reads for an hour, you have a panic attack thinking that people will think you’re slacking off, you’ll lose your digital follower-gathering momentum or something horrible will happen to you—like you will be completely ignored and lonely in the world.

technology addiction—is it real?

When you are addicted to technology the thought of being lonely if you don’t have any comments and viewers becomes real. It’s all so real and virtual.

If you don’t believe me (maybe because you are under the spell right now), just book a flight to a tropical island right now. Just do it; the cost will pay off in the lessons you learn (and you may even relax too).

You start out on your journey by making sure you pack your bathing suit and cell phone. Cell phone charger is high on the list, even before sunblock or arranging for the cat sitter to care for your pets while away. The cell phone charger is so important because if you don’t have it—you can’t even allow yourself to go there in your mind—you will be disconnected.

Disconnected from what? The Internet, the cyber world that needs you.

Or is it you who needs it? What if you do an experiment and imagine for a minute that It doesn’t need you at all?

the airport for technology travelers

Once you get to the airport, you are fine once you get your bags checked, find your gate, make sure you’re on time for your flight and you are sitting at the gate so that you can now *relax* and start checking your emails from your cell phone. You roll your eyes at the mere vision of someone nearby who does not have a smartphone—as their annoying voice emanates through the airport while they speak (yes, with their voice) through their old flip phone.

You think that you may have missed something today because you didn’t get to check email at 6am as usual—you had to wake up at 4am—and you are feeling off balance because of this. You check your email, your blood pressure goes down. Ah… you even check your Spam box just in case. (During this gate wait, you aren’t thinking yet about sitting next to the Cell Charger station because you made sure you charged your phone over night, but you notice one out of the corner of your eye—even that it’s completely packed and full with bug-eyed people, some people even lying on the ground underneath it so that while they charge they can still use their phone as it’s suspended in the air). You make a mental note to make sure you quickly get to a Cell Charger station at your next gate (or even in someone else’s gate, if you must).

the airplane which caters to technology withdrawal

You get on the plane and while the pilot discusses safety, you are reading about the inboard wi-fi. (You consider NOT putting your phone in Airplane Mode as they demand; you think to yourself how one little cell phone couldn’t possibly take down a plane. You feel like a rebel with this thought and consider trying it out.) You are soothed once you realize that it’s only $1.95 for 30 minutes of wi-fi in the air. You make sure you have your credit card handy, your pillows and blankets next.

At your connecting gate, off you go (top priority) to make sure you sit next to the Cell Charger station—not because your battery is dead yet, but because it could become dead in the coming flight so you want to make sure you’re at 100% on your battery. You ignore your travel companions’ wishes to find a good restaurant. You know that you would love a glass of wine, and you consider the concept of asking the bartender to let you use their plug outlet, but then you remember your friend who left her charging cell phone at a bar airport as she sat back into relaxation and zoomed off without it. You can’t imagine how horrible your vacation would be if this happened to you. You sit at the Cell Charger station; you charge. Your eyes roll back into your head and you sit comfortably waiting. It’s like you are meditating.

entry into vacation mode

During the first few days of your tropical vacation you bring your phone with you to the beach, the pool bar and all excursions. You say that you want to make sure you have photos of your experience (and therefore need you phone camera), and as a writer, you want to make sure that you can quickly capture those precious words flowing through you in your idle moments of bliss as the ocean breeze takes you and the island drinks soak into your bones.

You don’t care as much—all of a sudden—that your phone gets a little sand on it or salt water. You try to remember the next available “upgrade date” on your cell phone plan, and even though you promised that to your high school son so that he could get his highly anticipated phone upgrade for doing well in school, you contemplate that maybe you will need to take that after all to get yourself a new phone.

you lose your edge

And then it hits you as you are driving on the already-experienced chaotic signless highways, that required you to Google-Map yourself wherever you go. It hits you like a rock on the head: your phone dies! You are immediately mad at yourself for losing your edge; you forgot to keep your phone charged. Your phone dies like a drowning victim while you’re in the midst of it (whatever it is loses importance), the dotted fading circle as its last breath. You are alone on the highway. You have now dropped down into your gut.

Without your phone or navigation friend, you feel primal. You feel like you know what cavemen used to go through before cell phones. They used their instincts. You start to remember (as if you used to be one in a previous life)… and you start to use your instincts.

euphoria as a miracle to save you

Miraculously you are ok and you even feel this euphoria that you hadn’t felt in a long long time. You feel personally powerful and competent to have made it through that primitive experience.

Overtaken by elation, you don’t charge your phone that night—you actually forget. You find your paper journal that you packed (somehow you knew you had it in you to detox from technology so you brought the paper and a few pens). Your creativity takes over. You are less in your head. You actually know what meditation is all about now. You remember that you have been practicing yoga for 18 years. You are grateful for this elusive moment.

You feel a devious smile arrive on your face as you imagine people who are trying to text you or email you (and they can’t reach you). You finally feel the power of the island.

Days go by. You can’t count days anymore and it doesn’t matter. A thought crosses your mind that maybe you should have kept track of the days with a hash mark on a rock, but alas, you didn’t and you don’t care…

preparing for re-entry

Once you are home, your new viewpoint takes precedence and you begin to wonder if you’ll make it through life in your current job—your pre-vacation job, that is. Something deep inside you tells you that you need to make a big change, and quick. But you don’t feel like moving quickly, and you know you’ll just keep delaying until you need to decide.
You know that the important path will illuminate itself for you.

But then the day arrives when you have to fly back home. You pack your stuff. On automatic pilot—like something from an old dream—you pack your cell charger and phone into their usual spots on your carry-on. You fly home. You forget about your phone during the entire ride home.

You know that the important path will illuminiate itself for you.

Worries are gone until you check on your bank account and remember the bills you have to pay and how you need to be on top of your calendar. You feel something crawling up your back as you allow your computer fingers to type and mouse to move. You know you are back home but with a new vantage point now. You feel like a recovering addict. And now you introspectively feel the addictive behavior in your body. You learn to recognize that when you feel your skin crawl, it’s time to walk away and go to yoga or use your body in ways that were not previously prioritized.

You don’t want to forget to stay the course on this one. You aren’t sure what to do next to nurture this new idea, but at least you recognize that it happened to you.

You keep typing, but not for long...

© 2014 R.E.L. Copywriting