Dear iPhone – We Need a Break

Dear iPhone

I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.

I think it’s time for us to take a break.

I bet you didn’t see this coming.  For years, I’ve been so into you.  I’ve carried you everywhere with me.  If you’re not in my pocket or my purse, you’re charging somewhere nearby.  You’ve even been right next to me every night as I sleep.  I’ve held you in my hands during concerts, football games, holiday celebrations, birthday parties, weddings, work and even church.  You’ve never been far from me.

Please understand, it’s not you, it’s me.  You’re incredible, and any person would be lucky to have you.  Seriously, I’m not just saying that!  You’ve always given me exactly what I’ve wanted – and more!  You’re always willing to offer up a recipe when I’m frantically pacing the kitchen with no clue what to serve.  You wake me up on time.  You help me with basic math.  You keep my photos at my fingertips so I can share them with loved ones with 30 seconds notice.  You keep me up to date on what’s going on with the world.  You let me know what I need to buy when I’m at the store.  You tell me which library books are due and what movies have just been released.  You entertain me, my husband, and my kids when we are out and about.  You play me music, read me books, track how many steps I take in a day, and let me know where I am every minute of every day.   You shine a light on my world with a single tap.  You remind me to pay my bills on time, tell me where I’m supposed to be and when, help me send notes to friends, and occasionally you even let me talk to my friends and family.

You are my everything.  You’re the first thing I look at every morning and the last thing I touch before I go into my bed.   I’m never lost with you around.  But, dear iPhone, I think I may be losing myself because of having you around so much, and that’s why I have to end it.

It’s just too much.  I thought I was ready for this level of commitment, but I’m feeling smothered.  Sometimes, it’s like I can’t even breathe.  I feel drawn to you at the same time I’m repelled by you.  I don’t want to touch you, but I can’t seem to help myself.  You’re my crutch.  You’re my rock.  And you’re my weakness.

Others have noticed it, too.  My little boys, the little humans I’m responsible for, are crestfallen when they see me reach for you.  I see it in their eyes, and it breaks my heart.  I wonder how many other people I’ve disappointed when I turn to you – an inanimate object – instead of focusing on them and being present in the real world.  I’m not willing to sacrifice all of my friendships for my relationship with you.  I don’t need that kind of co-dependence in my life.

I think we’ve entered into a destructive relationship and I don’t think it’s healthy.  With you by my side, I don’t have to remember anything.  I can always count on you to point me in the right direction – but I don’t know if I can count on me doing things for myself anymore.  I know you’ll answer any question I have, day or night, but I need to be able to find my own answers every now and again.

Being with you has changed me.  I don’t even know myself anymore!  I find myself increasingly stressed out and anxious about what I’m missing out on, and it’s taken me away from whatever it is I’m currently doing.  No one needs that kind of constant, relentless stress.

This isn’t a break-UP, it’s just a break.  For real.  I’m not ready to lose you completely.  I don’t know how I’d survive without you in my life at all.  I’m just not going to be able to see you as often.  When I’m with my friends and family, I’m keeping you in my purse.  When I’m playing with my kids, you can be in another room entirely.  I am not going to jump up and run away from what I’m doing every time you make a noise.  Let’s start with checking in with each other every two hours, and then see if we can lengthen that time a bit as we get used to giving each other some space.  I’ve gotten you a new docking station, and it’s a little bit further from my bed – because, dear iPhone, you don’t belong there.  You also don’t belong at the dinner table.  You most certainly do not belong in my car, except to rest quietly in my purse during the ride.  You can keep buzzing and ringing – I am just not going to be at your beck and call anymore.

Oh, dear iPhone, I just really need to work on me right now.  I don’t think I can do that with you constantly at my side.

You’ve meant so much to me, and I’ll always treasure the gifts you’ve given me.  I just need to focus on my life – my real life – right now.

I hope you can understand.

Always yours,

~ Carrie


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