Disengaging

This morning, while I was in the midst of my morning scroll through Facebook over breakfast my husband said something to me. I replied. He looked confused, as one is apt to do when the person they are talking to offers a response that has nothing to do with the topic of discussion.

I wish this was an isolated incident; but it is not. This was definitely not the first time I’ve found myself attempting to engage in both real life and social media at the same time and failing. Whether it’s Facebook and a conversation with my husband or Twitter and a phone call with a friend, it seems I simply cannot do both at the same time. Which begs the question – why do I try? What makes me keep scrolling down the screen when someone else is talking?

Is what I’m reading on the screen that important.? Doubtful. If it was I wouldn’t have answered in the first place. Wouldn’t have even thought about trying to engage in a real-life conversation. And seriously is there ever anything on Facebook or Twitter that just can’t wait? The answer is unequivocally: NO. If there was something a good friend desperately needed to tell me, I’m sure they would pick up the phone and call or track me down in person.

So why is that morning scroll through Facebook part of my routine? Why do I feel the need to glance at my Twitter feed while sitting down for a drink with friends? The answer is unequivocally: ABSOLUTELY NO REASON. Except perhaps the fact that it’s all so accessible. Just a tap on the screen of my phone. A click of the mouse. A split second to vast amounts of information at my fingertips. But at what cost? Is it more important to know that the person who is a friend of a friend seven times removed just had an awesome fro yo than to spend ten minutes in conversation with the love of my life. Clearly not.

So I’ve been making an effort to disengage a bit. To stop reaching for my iPhone every quiet moment. To give space for conversation, for curiosity, for day- dreaming. Space to find my balence. Space to put first things first.

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