Virtually Trapped

Self care is a concept that has been very near and dear to my heart lately.  I can remember when a light bulb moment of understanding happened for me on an airplane, as I listened to the instructions to “secure your own oxygen mask before helping those around you.”  Though I had heard it before, prior to that moment, it had always seemed a bit selfish to picture myself securing my own oxygen mask when there might be a child or an elderly or confused person beside me who could not secure their own.  My tendency in life is to care for others, while pushing my own needs and feelings aside, with plans to get around to myself eventually.  In some ways I find this to be among my greatest strengths, and in other ways, it is one of my biggest flaws.

The oxygen mask scenario is nothing new.  We’ve all heard it many times.  And yet when a simple concept makes perfect sense to your life for the first time, it can be so liberating.  Of course it’s important that I secure my own mask first.  How on earth would I be able to help anyone around me if I was unable to function?  And how hard would it be to quickly secure my own mask?  Instead of debating the moral implications of such a decision, I could simply act, and could be of much greater service to those around me as a result.

When I was a sophomore in college, I remember spending a whole evening alone in my dorm room, waiting for a phone call.  This was before the time of cell phones and Facebook.  I think AOL instant messenger was a thing then, but I didn’t have my own computer and I didn’t have an AOL account.  I had books, a guitar, a journal, an eclectic CD collection, and a stereo.  And I had a big window through which I could see the beautiful weather that I was missing out on.

I met this guy at a summer camp I had worked at several weeks before, and he said he would call me on that particular day so that we could roller blade around my campus (I am pretty sure that was not what the cool kids were doing at the time, but somehow I always seemed to miss those memos).  He went to a different school, and if I remember correctly, he had my number but I didn’t have his.  He was nice, and I was interested in remaining friends with him, but there was no deeper interest than that.  And yet, I allowed myself to stay in my room, waiting for him to call because he said that he would.  Even though I was bored, and feeling more lonely and agitated by the moment, I stayed in that dorm room, afraid that if I left (even for a few minutes), I might miss the call.  I let myself think more about how he would feel if he called and I wasn’t there than about how I felt, looking at the borrowed roller blades in my room and thinking about what my other friends were up to on this particularly beautiful day.

I don’t remember all of the details of that day, but I imagine I probably ate dinner in my room that night, and as the beautiful day turned into a lovely evening, that phone failed to ring.  I had wasted precious hours of my life waiting for affirmation from someone that I just kind of liked; wanting him to prove that my time and my feelings were important by calling and acknowledging my existence.  The funny thing is, when that didn’t happen, the anger and frustration that I felt that night were directed not at him, but at myself.

I was angry that I had allowed myself to let him dictate not only my evening plans but also feelings about my self-worth.  If the lack of attention from a mere acquaintance could make me feel so low, I knew there were things within my own heart and mind that needed to change.  I thought of all of the things I could have done differently.  I could have given myself a deadline, like “I will wait until 6pm for him to call.  If I haven’t heard from him by then, he can leave me a message and we’ll make plans another time.”  And then I could have found anything more interesting to do.

I find it fascinating that I remember that experience so vividly all these years later.  It has nothing to do with the person who hurt my pride that night.  Rather, it has everything to do with what I learned about myself – how willing I can be to put myself on hold, or to think that the feelings and time of everyone else are more important than my own.  I realize now that self care has always been a significant struggle for me.

These days I don’t find myself trapped in specific locations waiting to hear from people.  Ironically, I instead feel constantly trapped by the portable handheld device that I take with me everywhere.  At any given moment, I can swipe to any number of websites or apps that can give me moment to moment feedback about who (if anyone) is acknowledging my virtual presence and/or social media contributions at any given time.  And it’s humbling to realize how the need for this feedback (or lack thereof) can emotionally impact me in a similar way to my experience of feeling alone that night in my dorm room.  In some ways I have not changed at all.

Yesterday I had a bit of an “aha” moment.  I realized that if I could go back in time and meet that person I once was, I would have convinced her to leave her dorm room that night at a reasonable time.  I would have explained that her time is valuable and that she doesn’t have to wait around if she really doesn’t want to.  And I began to see patterns in my life now that need to change.  I started thinking of all of the moments when I have habitually swiped to this or that app, becoming instantly distracted from what was happening around me – my kids trying to tell me something; my book sitting unopened on the coffee table; my to do list remaining unchecked; and on it goes.

I recently decided to stop habitually checking my Facebook account.  Now, there is a lot I could say about Facebook and other avenues of social media, but perhaps I will save most of that for another post.  One thing I am not saying is that social media is a terrible thing or even that I am giving it up.  There are many aspects of social media that I genuinely appreciate.  However, I felt the need to “step out of the room”  that I have allowed myself to be trapped in – you know, the one where you find yourself checking during most of your free moments to see if your social media presence is still relevant to anyone else in your virtual world (or I am the only one who does that?), or feeling bad about how very mediocre you seem to be at everything after looking at all of the beautifully poetic sentiments and scenes shared by everybody else.

Anyway, I started putting my phone down during the moments when I would normally pull it out and start scrolling, and guess what?  It has felt wonderful.  I have listened to more music, found more time to meditate and read scripture, and have had more uninterrupted play time with my kids since putting down my phone than I have had in the course of a day for quite a while now.  Granted, these are brief moments here and there, but collectively they can equate to significant amounts of time … maybe even enough time to step outside alone in a pair of borrowed roller blades, enjoying the beautiful day, ignoring the glances of everyone around me holding memos regarding all of the cooler things I could be doing outdoors …