Notification! Important!

I think I’m gonna go cold turkey. I have an addiction, an unhealthy addiction. I’m Scarlette Begonia, and I’m addicted to notifications.

I ran a ten mile race today and fully, and rightfully, expected to experience an endorphin high for the rest of the day, or for at least a few hours. I was bummed. Completely bummed. I was bummed from the moment I finished the race until I had the sense to figure out what was going on. I was bummed because I sort of expected certain folks to respond to certain posts and certain text messages, and they didn’t. Never mind they have full and consuming lives of their own, but I had an expectation, an unfulfilled expectation.

There are two things wrong with this picture; expectations, one, and looking to external stimuli for validation, for happiness, for gratification. I wholly and completely realize this, and have, according to some, “preached” on this before.

Preacher, now disciple.

Lately, I find myself grasping my phone, checking every few minutes for notifications. I have notifications turned on for absolutely every app, social media, text messages, phone calls, “Map My Run”, and even “All Trails”.

I have even begun to “measure”, or try to quantify how much someone likes me, or loves me, by how quickly they respond to texts, or if, and how rapidly they “like” a picture, a comment, a check-in. And especially a new profile picture. This, my friends, is no way to live. This is not how friendships or relationships or love, or anything else, is measured. Ever.

Extremist that I am, I spent the afternoon on the deck, lounging in my cheap, faded, PVC Adirondack chair, contemplating all of this, and then, systematically turning off notification services for everything except phone calls. And even that I really wanted to turn off, because 99% of the time, I don’t want to talk to whomever is calling. But, as my mom is 91 years old and couldn’t text to save her life, and may require assistance when I am away, I left that one notification active.

This strategy, I’ll admit, failed miserably and instantly. I just picked up my phone and opened every app, one by one, to see if anyone was talking to me, validating me, “liking” me, loving me. Nope. More dismal despair and disappointment. My solution, and I’m only two hours in; I’ve set an alarm for every three or four hours, and, when it sounds, I am allowed to check my apps. Until then, the phone remains untouched, the only app open is Spotify. I do require a little external stimuli, and music seems benign. I’m hoping to wean my “app checking” down to three times a day. Eventually. Baby steps. It’s like heroine, I’ll require methadone, on a long-term, tapered schedule, before I am, at last, free from this monkey on by back.

In the hour and a half I’ve been abiding by this new plan, I’ve drafted three articles, I’ve observed fascinating nature in my own backyard, I’ve eaten a pizza, four samosas and had a couple of beers. I’ll get better, I am certain.

Why am I taking such extreme measures?

Our sense of worth, our value as a human being, the measure of how lovable, or likable we are, never, ever, ever, is dependent on what others think, of how others act, or even of how others regard us. We are our only judge, and to rely so completely on external stimuli for validation is in complete juxtaposition.

Our self-worth, our self-confidence, our value, only ever comes from within, and unless we’re going to sit there and like all our own social media posts, respond to all our own texts in precisely the manner, and period of time, we deem appropriate, we’ve set ourselves up for utter disappointment.

Expectations, generally, are the device of misery. By expecting certain behaviors or actions from anyone is the most expeditious route to disappointment ever. We are only, and with effort, in control of ourselves. We cannot control anyone else, in thought, action, or deed. To think we can coerce, beg, plead, ask, request anyone to change, or to behave according to our desire, is futile. Live your life and coexist with others.

You know that religious “coexist” bumper sticker you see on the back of every third Prius on the highway? Repurpose the message; live your own life, set and strive for your own expectations, and respect others for their efforts in setting and striving for their own expectations. If their self-expectations align well enough with yours, then, super. If not, let go, and find folks whose journey, and expectations, coexist more with yours.

So, yes, please, like my article. Follow me, like me on Facebook, on Twitter, on Instagram, just know, I’ll be appreciative, but I may not realize your appreciation as instantly as you may expect!

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