"There are days I question my life choices" - why I don't respond to text messages

A personal essay and journaling technique

Photo by Curology on Unsplash

Sometimes I don’t reply to messages…

Because I don’t know what to say.

Because even though what you’re suggesting sounds fun I have no time in my life for it and I don’t want to admit that to you. Or to myself.

Because I’m a bit lazy and disorganised.

Because I find parenting so incredibly hard. Not like, “I find maths tricky” hard but more, “I have got absolutely no idea what I’m doing and nothing left to give” hard.

Because I’ve not spoken to my husband properly in days.

Because I had a million other messages and yours slid down the screen.

Because I broke my glasses last week and even though I need them to drive I still haven’t got round to getting them fixed.

Because I’ve been wrapped up in trying to find more paid work and it’s all a bit slow right now and I’m too embarrassed to tell anyone that, even you.

Because I need to nip and see my mum and the guinea pigs need cleaning and there’s the daily, ‘what’s for dinner’ shit show and….

Because I’m not sure what we’ve got to talk about anymore.

Because sometimes I cry in the shower so I can get it all out then skip downstairs ready to make breakfast and enthuse about everyone’s day ahead.

Because I did want to but then got distracted.

Because I’m not actually sure nowadays if I want to or not.

Because other peoples’ lives can be very enticing.

Because - why are we talking about anything else except ending genocide and war?

Because the world feels so terribly broken and so terribly beautiful 100 times a day and sometimes both at the same time.

Because I appear to be writing this instead.

Because I have nothing to complain about.

Because I am still so full of rage some days.

Because I am so very grateful for my life and for you and for the fact that you took the time to message me and now I’ve left it too late.

Because I was happily enjoying the life in front of me; sat at the table chatting and looking at their faces, reading bedtime stories, chasing sunrises and sunsets. It feels better that way.

Because I lose my phone on purpose sometimes and nowadays that feels rebellious.

Because I don’t leave the house without my phone and yet still don’t seem to be able to catch up on it all.

Because I make too many plans - I mean well and am hopeful at heart but then feel overwhelmed and don’t want to go but am often too awkward even to cancel.

Because I don’t want to lie to you but know that I will.

Because even lying is hard work.

Because Whatsapp can feel like another long list of people needing something from me.

Because I don’t want you to stop messaging me but I know I don’t reply quickly enough and I’m sorry.

Because I probably should have told you more often that I love you.

Because you’d never believe me if I told you that my daughter was chasing my son around the house with a Mr Happy umbrella (irony completely lost) and in return he was throwing a football boot (!) at her, all because he sat in her (unmarked and unspecified) chair at the table. Because conflict resolution at the highest level is what I was doing instead.

Because occasionally I catch myself wondering at this comms tool that literally now rules my life and when this catching happens I decide (for a few days anyway) not to play along anymore.  

Because I can (for now).

Because if I don’t reply will you even notice?

Because I want to not feel like I’m wasting time but I do feel like I’m wasting time and with all the wasting time chat I clam up and end up doing nothing.

Because I’d rather be writing poetry instead.

Because it required a decision and I can’t make decisions so instead I ignore decisions until the last minute. Or never.  

Because it is June already.

Because this morning, after shouting at my son, he said, “you are the only angry one in this house right now” and he was right.

Because even with HRT I’m still feeling a bit messed up.

Because I am so very much not messed up. I am so very much alive.

Because the sun finally came out and who knows for how long so I had to be elsewhere.

Because I lay on the grass and it was so great and I started trying to figure out how many because’s I’ve got left to give.

Because I desperately crave a life away from a screen for me and my whole family.

Because I can’t stop thinking about the fact they are chopping down yet another tree along the road.

Because there must be millions of non-replies floating around the world.

Because there are days I question most of my life choices.

Because there are days I am so happy with most of my life choices.

Because you wouldn’t ask my husband the same question.

Because in my head I did reply.

Because I’m not always a good friend.

Because it’s not just the physical work but the friendship dramas, the exam stress, the listening to the story about a snail that seems to last for for six days….

Because, not replying felt easier.

Because every time I try to concentrate I’m pulled away which makes a person crazy. Or Stupid. Or both.

Because my son wrote on a piece of paper that, ‘the sky went for a walk up a mountain..’ and that’s all I want to keep reading.

Because I’ve moved on.

Because I don’t know all the answers and don’t have the energy to even pretend that I do.

Because nobody died (you might wanna ring me with this sort of news).

Because it was already last Tuesday.

Because sometimes I’m happy to be left behind.

Because someone needed me more or shouted louder.

Because I am doing my best and I am trying really hard.

Because despite what I tell others or read on an Instagram post I am never sure if that will be enough.

Because I am only human.

Because I am human.

---

Another more personal essay (prose poem? who knows) that I have only sent to you and not the wider internet world.

I am not great at replying to messages (no shit). On the whole I seem to get away with it. But after not replying to one particular message for far too long (which became a bit ouch) I ended up grabbing a pen and asking myself why. Three pages later it turned out that there were many different reasons.

I might come back and play with this piece because it possibly works as a sort of wider commentary on being a women/mother but I wanted to share it with you first. Also, I probably won’t. I know this because it has been sat in my drafts folder for months.

I actually think the ‘because’ format works well as a journaling technique if you do want to dig a little deeper on a topic. This isn’t therapy and I’m no therapist so you might need to go gentle (depending on your question), but it was quite cathartic and interesting. With mine I also ended up finishing with some compassion. I didn’t actually plan to do this when I started but I’m happy that’s what happened. I’d recommend this too.

Write your question then just keep on going with asking yourself why.

Because…Because…Because…

Add a line break between each point and know that they don’t have to be remotely related. In fact the interesting points seem to fall into the gaps. They can be amusing. They can be blunt. They can be heartfelt.

In understanding ourselves better we are then hopefully more able to give ourselves the love and support we need. Or the direction. Or the encouragement. To give ourselves a little grace.

(I am crap at replying to messages because I am human).

Anyway, as always let me know if you try it,

Nelly x