i wish i were addicted to something positive. like kale. but i’m not. i’m addicted to my phone. i’m addicted to instagram. i’m addicted to facebook. i’ve watched the “the social dilemma“. i’m aware of the signs. i have an addictive personality. i come from a lineage of addictive personalities. my great-great uncle died falling out of a two-story window because he was addicted to alcohol. blah. blah. blah.

so what?

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is an addiction positive if it helps you cope with something worse?

below is the full story of when and how i’ve realized my phone obsession is a problem … though i’m not quite sure how or when to kick the habit.

[literally just heard my phone buzz and proceeded to stand up and look for it immediately after typing the above paragraph and debating turning off my phone for the rest of the day … but didn’t. because… well… i’m addicted.]

monday i lost my phone for less than two hours and was ready to give up on all of 2021. i know exactly how it happened. i recognized it a few blocks away, retraced my steps, but it was already gone.

after taking a photo of a tree, i headed towards an overpass i’ve crossed dozens of times [and never dropped my phone.] but this time, the phone was in the side pocket of my new $30 winter coat [yep, my friend kim found a brand of insanely priced coats that i love.]

so when z and i jogged over the noisy bridge – like we always do – the phone fell out, and because the bridge is loud, i didn’t hear it.

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i was almost home when i had to check my phone and it wasn’t in my pocket. i panicked. we ran back to the bridge but weren’t fast enough.

the phone was gone.

on the verge of tears, i started bashing myself as i traveled on the bridge for a fourth time that morning:

• “you’re so stupid.”
• “why did you put it in that pocket?”
• “casey’s never going to let you live this down.”
• “how are you going to afford a new phone right now?”
• “2021 is ruined already.”
• “what an idiot.”

in a matter of minutes, i went from a delightful walk marked by inspiring photos to hating myself, regretting my need to always snap pictures [part of my addiction,] and cursing my wonderful new coat.

i kept walking.

eventually i thought of the many books and countless conversations i’ve have in the past four months about self-compassion [this pandemic and shifting my life has been rough] and muttered the below OUT LOUD:

• “i am not stupid.”
• “this will not ruin the months ahead.”
• “there’s still a chance i’ll get it back.”
• “dropping my phone has nothing to do with my intelligence.”
• “this has nothing to do with my self worth. it was an accident.”
• “accidents happen.”

i felt slightly better.

after a few more blocks, my addiction to my phone startled me; forgetting that i didn’t have my lifeline, i reached into my pocket AGAIN. all of the thoughts bombarded me all over. i felt helpless. and hopeless.

it bit me … even worse than relying on the phone was my addiction to beating myself up when even the slightest thing went wrong. i was about to let a minor incident ruin my day, my year, and ultimately, chip away at all of the self-care work i had been focused on for months.

then my brain forked out the following ….

self-criticism is precisely what lead to my father-in-law denying that his freaking leg was broken for four excruciating days over christmas.

i took a deep breath.
and arrived home.

an hour later, my phone showed up at my doorstep. someone else was able to help. crisis averted. i felt foolish and immediately satisfied my addiction with this instagram post.

yet, i still can’t shake the idea of how so many of us are not only addicted to our phones but … hating ourselves when we make mistakes.

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what the hell happened over christmas?

here’s our holiday according to “social media” [looks pretty perfect]:

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i obviously focused on the lighter side of the events that unfolded.

long story short … casey’s dad fell in our backyard on christmas eve scraping his face, breaking his thumb/hand and fracturing the base of his femur. [yes, that’s the biggest bone in your body.] it took us an hour to get him back in the house in the 15 degree weather. it took him four days before we finally convinced [forced] him to go to the hospital where he ultimately required surgery. it will take him months [a year] to recover.

how could phil not tell us that he needed medical assistance when his right leg was twice the size of his left? why did he refuse to acknowledge how bad it was? continually stating: “i’m fine. i’m fine.” he was not fine.

here’s the reality of our actual christmas:

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my father-in-law would be mortified that i’m sharing all of this. the same way he was embarrassed when i asked our neighbor to help lift him into the house. and how casey was upset at me for calling our paramedic friend for advice in the aftermath of the fall – as if admitting we didn’t have all of the answers would somehow be an additional failure.

this addiction to shame, avoidance and low self-worth feels way more important than being addicted to my phone. or to social media. or is it all related?

afterall, i proceeded to use my phone to avoid the events pictured above.

… and i just picked up my phone for the second time since starting this post [a clear sign that i’m addicted] to play “The Gift of Imperfection” and listen to brene brown educate me on the power of addiction. no wonder i walked right into this topic.

Are we using whatever it is that we are doing too much of to hide or escape from the reality of our lives?
…
when we numb the dark, we numb the light.”

BRENE BROWN,
The Gifts of Imperfection

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it gets [slightly] worse

in an effort to stand phil up initially [a regrettably bad idea] i pulled a muscle in my shoulder – hence calling our neighbor over to help. i couldn’t do the heavy lifting on my own. [looking back now] we also shouldn’t have to. this is why we have friends. this is why we have family.

upon finding out that i had been hurt as part of this whole debacle, somehow phil felt more terrible. it cemented his addiction to self-loathing even further. he didn’t say this aloud of course. [he didn’t verbalize ANYTHING] but i know he was consumed with how “his mistake” had now caused me physical pain. but it wasn’t “a mistake” … it was a freaking accident and … drumroll … accidents happen.

i never blamed him for the pain in my neck. if anything, i felt more empathy for the excruciating pain he must have been feeling. there was more than enough blame going around.

i watched him blame himself for stumbling on our back steps. i watched casey blame the fall on his need to go outside for a cigarette. i watched phil’s sister blame him for not taking care of himself. i watched and tried to disrupt the blame game but no one heard me.

my screen-time sky-rocketed because i couldn’t watch what was unfolding but at the same time my social media presence plummeted. i wasn’t sure what to share. it wasn’t my story to share. just like it wasn’t my place to force things to change. was it?

instead i focused on obsessively playing games on my phone.

• i didn’t put on real clothes.
• i get our holiday cards out.
• i didn’t send any presents to my family.
• i didn’t open any presents for myself.
• i failed repeatedly by every standard.
• but i did get to level 232 of two dots [bird note: this is quite possibly the best aesthetically-designed app/game ever. i highly recommend but please do no blame me when you get addicted.]

maybe diving into my phone was an addiction … but what if it was also what i needed to survive the darkness?

phil eventually saw the light and we were able to get him the care he needed. he let me help. casey stepped out of the darkness as well and finally understood my calls for compassion, kindness and empathy for his father. i even set my phone down and watched casey explain to his dad that he needs to focus on positivity in order to get better. i didn’t even force them to read the below metaphor. [or eat kale.]

sitting here now 9 days since the fall, i realize i can easily see what others need but i’m still very much addicted to avoiding compassion, kindness and empathy for myself. it’s now a matter of when and how to change.

if we drop phones.
someone will pick it up.
if we fall.
someone will pick us up.

all we need to do is accept the help.

– BIRD

BIRD NOTE: what’s with the kale image? it’s a favorite and even though it was a stretch to tie this all together with the lettuce analogy … i went with it.

plus, carolyn said she wants to hang it in her kitchen so i’m keeping it top of mind AND as you all know … i get distracted by bird holes and addictions.