See Alexia Blog: June 2015

I’d like to start by saying that over the last ten years that I've had a cell phone, I've become addicted to it.

It’s not just scrolling through my Instagram and Facebook feeds either. I’m constantly texting and looking up random videos on YouTube.

This past January, my class studied technology and how it influences our day-to-day lives. Comments ranged from “I can’t even think about going without my cell phone for 10 minutes” to “I think being connected all of the time is bad, but I don’t know how to stop.” I think I ended up learning more than my students did after this class.

It’s kind of similar to taking a film class and learning how to set up shots. After that, you’re ruined for movies.

Well, after my students and I analyzed our digital lives for 16 weeks straight, I started realizing how big of an issue this is for not only their lives but mine as well.

I went to the doctor’s office a few months ago and saw two women sitting next to each other staring at their phones. The only time they broke their focus was to show the other one something funny that was happening on their screen.

I felt angry after seeing their interaction, but it was mainly because I knew that this is a totally acceptable way to hang out.

Our phones have become our best friends.

After finishing the course in May, I started reflecting on a trip I took last summer to Paris and Spain. While I had an amazing time visiting these countries, I also spent so many hours on my phone, sharing my trip with friends, family, and even strangers online.

It would have been fine if I had used Facebook or Instagram as just a place to store my photos, but I didn’t. I posted because I felt like I needed to let other people know what I was doing with my days. Even more, I felt this compulsion after posting a photo to log back in every few minutes to see who had “liked” or commented on my activity.

Does that sound familiar to anyone?

And looking back at my trip, sure, I got a lot of really great photos, but I also spent way too long trying to make everyone I am connected to online a part of my real world experience.

Then, I asked myself why.

Why do I give a care that someone posted yet another selfie? Why does it matter what my friends ate for dinner? Why do I need to see yet another post telling me that you LUV your boyfriend and how he’s your #MCE (man crush everyday) ?

The most important question that I asked myself, though, was why I felt the need to post a lot of the same stuff.

Sure, it’s awesome to be able to connect with friends and family who are not living close by, but as a good friend of mine put it, social media is not a way to stay connected as much as it’s a way to compete. Our Facebook and Instagram accounts have become a digital resume where we show only our good sides and filter out the less attractive parts. And even though I know all of this, I still buy into all of the bullshit fantasies that people sell online.

I’d been lying to myself in saying that social media and texting allowed me to stay connected because honestly, I’d never felt more disconnected.

This feeling is what prompted me to leave my phone at home for 6 days while I visited Hawaii with my family recently. I knew that if I brought it with me, there’d be times when boredom would lead me to scroll through my social media feeds.

I wanted to remember what it felt like to be bored.

The entire drive to the airport, I kept feeling the panic rise in my chest like heat in an upstairs apartment before realizing that I hadn’t forgotten anything important; I had just left my phone on airplane mode in my underwear drawer.

Before going on this trip, I had spent a few days in the mountains at a yoga retreat where we didn’t have cell service. This lack of “connection” to my life back home led to a deeper connection to the people I was with and the activities I was doing.

I left feeling clear-headed and invigorated because I had actually been present at an event rather than Instagramming it for the “memories” I could have later on.

And the feeling of connection that I had in the mountains was once again achieved in Hawaii.

My boyfriend and I had long talks on our drives around the island. We sat at a coffee shop and watched birds walk down the street. I fell asleep with ease every night at 9:30pm and woke up from some of the best sleep every morning by 6:30am.

The anxiety that I usually carry with me like a backpack also seemed to float away, and in its place was a calm feeling.

On the flight home, I started wondering if I would be able to feel this same calm when I returned to my normal life. It’s easy to remain present in a place like Hawaii. It’s acceptable to say to people you know, I’m not going to respond to your texts or Facebook posts for six days because I’ll be on vacation, but I worried about how I could go off of the grid when I came back to Modesto.

Well, I’d like to tell you that when I got home, I didn’t immediately check my phone, but then I’d be lying.

But I will say that I didn’t feel the need to text everyone I know or post much about the trip. After scrolling through Facebook for a minute or so, I put my phone back on airplane mode and forgot about it for the rest of the night.

I’ve decided not to delete my social media accounts. I learned that I don’t mind being connected to people, but I do want to lessen the connection I have online and strengthen the ones I can have in person.

Since coming home last week, I have “hid” my phone almost everyday when I noticed that I wasn’t being productive. I’ve also removed the Facebook app, that way, I can only check it when I’m near a computer.

I’m learning that while I enjoy being online, I need to be more present in my real life. These may seem like small changes, but they are big enough for me to notice a difference.

Somewhere in Hilo, HI listening to the ocean.

Last weekend, I participated in an intensive yoga and writing retreat in the Sierra Nevada Foothills.

Prior to its start, I felt blocked and unwilling to accept my place in life. I had been trying for the last 5 months to write something, but I felt stuck because to write meant to face some pretty heavy stuff that happened to me recently.

In addition to feeling blocked with my writing practice, I also felt like running had lost its appeal. Lately it seemed like every time I laced up my shoes, it was to become better instead of what it used to be, which was a way to practice mindfulness and escape from an overwhelming desire to constantly be the best.

In short, running and I were on the outs.

I arrived at the retreat excited to have a weekend with no cell phone reception and a mission to empty my head of all the crap I had been hearing as well as telling myself this year.

We spent the weekend, well, doing a lot of yoga and writing. It never once got boring, though. Each yoga session asked us to go deeper, and I found myself remembering a quote from Cheryl Strayed’s Tiny Beautiful Things where she writes, “Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start here.”

So that’s what I tried to do. I let yoga gut me and open me.

At the end of each practice when we had settled into Savasana (my favorite pose), I found myself setting intentions to stay present and engaged, which I've found extremely difficult because of my anxiety. I know it might sound crazy, but I actually felt myself peeling off layers of stress, anger, and sadness as I lay there on my mat. I hadn’t realized how heavy those feelings were until they were gone.

The writing, however, was met with resistance from my inner critics. Each time I picked up my pen to do a freewrite or an exercise, I heard the voice inside telling me that I wasn’t good enough.

Late last year, I wrote an essay about my experiences running my first marathon and how finishing that event created a stark contrast to my estranged father who never finished anything he’d set out to do. It was well-received by people, which was great for me, but it also made me fear that I’d never write anything like it again.

While we were in our final workshop of the weekend, however, I learned that everyone at the retreat has the same inner critic that tells them that their writing is shit and that no one will want to read it, but they keep going.

To end the weekend, we sat down and made commitments to ourselves to make time for writing. I wrote that I wanted to wake up every morning at 6am and write my morning pages. This last week, I stuck to my commitments everyday by getting up no later than 7am (I like the snooze button, what can I say). I must admit, last Sunday night, I thought to myself, there’s no way I’m going to get up at 6am. It’s summer, and I’m tired. But somehow, I did it.

I’ll never forget the people I met last weekend and the honest, inspiring conversations that evolved from our love of writing.

I drove up thinking that I would have a nice break from my otherwise busy life, but what I left with was a deeper commitment to finding inner peace and a recommitment to my writing.