Boundaries

Remember when there was no such thing as an answering machine? I remember the day my parents bought one. It was so exciting! We all took turns recording a message and laughing at our mess-ups. It was fun to come home every day and press the button on the machine to listen to sweet and funny messages from family and friends. Like writing letters, it was a way of connecting with each other and saying we were on each other’s minds. That was when I was in high school.

Remember the first time you made an email account and started logging in to send messages to people? I could barely remember all the steps each time. I had them written down on a piece of paper, and if I didn’t have that paper with me at the library computer, I’d reach a dead end. Emailing was fun – we would send messages to loved ones and learn about what was going on in their lives. That was when I was in college.

Now we have texting. Well, we’ve had it for decades, but I just got my first phone last year and my first cell number several months ago. I held off as long as possible. How convenient it is to connect with anyone about anything, at any time of day.

But remember when work was done at work and leisure time was when you got off work? With the advent of amazing technology that puts everything at our fingertips from work to friendships to leisure time, there is a way we do life now in which all our activities are jumbled together. Staying connected on our phones is the only way to keep up with the constant changes that require communication.

It’s all so cool – the whole connect-with-anyone, change-any-plan-any-time, here-is-the-updated-schedule, buy-whatever-you-need-when-you-need-it ability we all have with each other.

But here’s the catch to this modern lifestyle. It’s expected that we rise in the morning to dutifully check emails, texts, and voicemails to stay in the now – a necessary “job” like brushing our teeth – and the checking and responding never stops until we go to bed. We must keep up with quick announcements, immediate requests, and postings of transactions that happen all throughout the day. If we set the phone aside, we’re totally out of the loop.

It doesn’t seem to matter what percentage of a person’s day it takes to keep up with their messages or how distracted they are from their important relationships. It is valued that they keep up, moment-to-moment. Period. When I don’t keep up (which is most of the time), I suspect that people make assumptions of me – that I am forgetful, uncaring, lazy, quirky, wishy-washy, unprofessional, airheaded, a daydreamer, low-tech, or just plain daft.

My reasoning for not keeping up with all the messages that come in constantly isn’t because I don’t care for or respect the people on the other end of the messages. In fact, I have a strong conscience that stabs at me when I am forgetful, which happens more than I’d like, because it can imply that I don’t care about someone, or that I’m unreliable. My forgetfulness is a major pet peeve I have of myself. And I long for other people to respond to me when I need answers too. There’s mutual respect going on when people on both ends of a message are quick to respond. (I always feel terrible when I miss something that is extremely important to someone else. It just happened this week, as some of you informed me of a person who was trying to get ahold of me on Facebook.) Rather, my reasoning for not keeping up is that I value not letting the busyness of modern times always interrupt, truncate, or edge out the wonder in every present moment in daily life.

I value going out and picking the last blackberries before they’re gone for the season. I value watching the flickers chat on a branch, and following the turkeys around for as long as they’ll let me.

I value walking around and enjoying the stunning beauty of this fairytale island, or I’ll be squandering a gift few people get to experience.

I have a challenging marriage. I value (no, require) ample time to process all of it, to reconnect with how to deal with it daily, and to figure out how to navigate its quiet difficulties and loneliness with each passing day. Sometimes I have to write and pray in my journal for hours just to reach a state of catharsis and contentment.

I have a teenager whose culture all around him values constant screen use for all still activities, from self-led learning to communicating to gaming. He rolls with the lifestyle. I don’t. I think true fulfillment is getting completely missed as kids strain and yearn for deep fulfillment through the middleman of a screen.

I know the online world won’t let us off the hook entirely. I’ll get to those important forms. I’ll sign the requested boxes you need signed. I’ll enroll or deactivate or sign up or happily do that job for you that you need help with. I’ll learn new programs and get the apps I need for them. But know this – I must be present for my kids. I must observe the turkeys. I must pause for much-needed sunshine when it’s beaming past the clouds. I must visit a friend and stay for as long as we need to laugh and talk.

Such activities are vital for my deep fulfillment, even if they are disregarded as luxuries by the fast-paced world. If those activities don’t fit this culture’s expectations of me, so be it.

If I (or others like me) don’t answer a message promptly, please know that it is not because I don’t value or respect you. I probably haven’t even seen your message come through yet. In order to intentionally care for myself well, I must keep parts of my life disconnected from the technological aether, which can be tragically misread, through my late responses, as frivolous disregard. But that’s not the case. I care much more than my response time communicates.

All we can do is figure out how to live in ways that are authentic to ourselves in a world that feels foreign at times. When there are no boundaries, we must make our own.