An Hour Disconnected
It’s the first day of school, and I cannot miss the photo of my kids leaving the house! It’s tradition. And if you're a parent, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
So I’m rushing, rushing, rushing, and I gave my phone to my husband to take the photos. He then naturally slipped my phone into his pocket. I jumped in the car with the kids and started hauling butt toward the high school, which is a good 25-minute drive if we don’t hit traffic on the highway.
It’s common for me to drive in silence. It’s the only time I can really tune into myself with such a busy schedule, and as a mother, I rarely get a silent moment. The teenagers in my car, including my son, were all headed to ninth grade, their first year of high school. Heads drooped down, eyes locked onto their cell phones. I didn’t really know what my role as driver/mom was supposed to be. Do teenagers even like questions? Or parents, for that matter? I hate what cell phones/social media have done to children. Am I allowed to request the whole car to be cell phone-free? This was all new to me: carpooling and every child in the vehicle having a phone. So, I decided to keep the music off, teens with phones, and remain extremely uncomfortable.
Then my husband called my son, not me. And he said the dreaded words: “I have Mommy's cell phone.” That meant I had no contact, no way to connect with anyone once I dropped the teenagers off.
I immediately went into a bit of a panic, asking myself:
What if something happens on I-95 and I can't get a hold of anyone?
What if this is the moment I get into a car accident?
I can’t believe I don’t have my phone—now I have to listen to FM radio if I want music!
What if people are trying to reach me and can’t?...and so many other ruminating thoughts.
But I had a choice.
Even though it didn't feel like a choice, I did have one:
To continue feeling anxious about what hadn’t happened yet, OR to say thank you. I’m beginning to find that when I add a thank you to something that creates discomfort, my perspective opens up. I get gifted something that soothes me.
Things could always be worse.
Am I safe? Yes.
Am I uncomfortable? Yes.
Will I survive this? Also yes.
Since all those answers were positive, I decided to make the best out of the situation. Immediately, I felt calmness settle throughout my body. I reached for the radio and turned it to Power 96—ole reliable. Songs I grew up with, songs I hadn’t heard in ages! In a matter of moments, I took anxiety, tossed it out the window, and created a dance party instead. I also exited the highway and took the scenic route, Beachfront Avenue, A1A, for a more enjoyable ride. That hour without my phone gave me space to reflect on how I’m really approaching life.
It’s so easy to become attached to your phone. It’s so easy to get addicted to instant gratification.
And for some wild reason, my internal cup had been feeling empty, like I had to be somebody to everybody. But when I removed my phone, I could be everything, just for me. In one hour, I gave myself love. I listened to myself. I returned to myself.
Moving forward, I set a new rule for myself: At least once a day, for the length of a car ride, I’ll drive with my phone in the trunk. The feeling of connection I received when I checked out and checked in to myself was 100 times more rewarding for my mental health than the “security” I thought I needed by staying connected via cell phone.
-Elizabeth