It's my life: Tric Kearney

PLEASE tell me I am not alone when I admit to having a less than healthy attachment to my phone? 

So inextricably linked are we, that perhaps it would be kinder to name it something a little more intimate than ‘my phone’.

Occasionally I realise that our relationship is toxic. It’s usually right about when I look up, punching the air triumphantly having reached a new level on Candy Crush, only to see a child of mine staring at me, “Mum, you are not even listening!” 

My quick thinking response is usually along the lines, “Of course I am. I was just replying to a very important email.”

In truth, I am racked with guilt: what sort of a mother am I ignoring my child? It’s time this phone and I broke up. 

The other day, in a desperate attempt to detox, I placed my phone in a kitchen drawer. Who needs a phone 24/7? Didn’t I live very happily in a mobile phone free world for years?

Delighted with my new resolve, I walked away, determined to leave it there until someday next week at the earliest.

Less than a minute later my palms began to itch and a definite feeling of panic hit me. Did I leave it on silent? What if someone was trying to contact me? I wandered about the house, avoiding the kitchen and that particular drawer, at all costs.

However, hard as I tried, it was as if all chores lead back to the kitchen, and before I knew it I was standing with my hand on that drawer.

I paused for a moment, battling with myself. This was ridiculous. Could I not do one day or even one hour without it?

But even as I chastised myself, my fingers had begun to tighten around the drawer handle.

What if one of the children was trying to contact me? Perhaps they had already left an urgent message? I snatched the phone from the drawer... no messages, no calls, no emergencies.

Barely recovered from the trauma of our separation, I sat at the laptop to do some writing, only to discover the internet was acting up. Not overly concerned I tried my usual fix; pressing the internet button on the laptop a couple of times. No joy.

This needed a more high-tech approach. Luckily I knew another surefire solution; turn the modem off for one minute, before turning it back on again... but it still didn’t work.

My IT knowledge was now fully depleted, all that was left was to shout at my laptop, calling it all manner of names, none of which it responded to.

Up until this happened I’d never have thought losing the internet was a big deal.

However, as one day without it became two and then three, all hell broke loose in the house. Imagine, no email, no Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or Snapchat?

Our phones went out in sympathy. For a time my kids laughed not unduly worried, until the inevitable happened, they realised there was no Netflix!

Our internet provider was oblivious to our trauma.

“We will have that fixed within the week,”she said.

“A whole seven days; no internet!”

What did we do I hear you ask? Did we find the joy of reading once more? Or perhaps chatted as a family, or played games such as Cluedo, as if it were Christmas?

No, we definitely did not, but we did come close to a murder.

I’m not sure what our reaction to the brief loss of phone and internet tells society, but if you are hoping for an enjoyable social visit to our family, you might ring ahead first to check if our internet service is working.


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