In the middle of this night, I have just spent — what, a year? an hour? five days? — opening one cyberdoor after another, climbing through windows, choosing pathways into the forest, where there were slides that funneled me into clearings with more pathways and possibilities…”Over here! Quick!” and there was inspiration and urgency and the promise of NOW I know what it is! What an addictive time I’ve just had.
I leave in my wake a series of probably very bad decisions. Changing user names and passwords, all in the name of “updating” twitter accounts, Facebook accounts, tumblr accounts. Changing the look of stuff that should really all be pretty cohesive. I have completely lost my way. I’ve created more accounts, thereby increasing the confusion…instead of simplifying. Oh my God, what have I done? What was I thinking?
Hands perched over my keyboard, my body is sitting upright mostly out of inertia. Shoulders have turned to wood. Eyes sting with bitter fatigue. But I’m onto the next thing and the next. This must be an impossibly gentile version of what it feels like to be addicted to crack. I want to stop. I’m tired. I WANT to go to bed. But I fear I won’t sleep, and anyway, there’s an amazing shiny thing over there that is exactly what I’ve been looking for, or at least probably. Wait, no? Oh, of course not—it’s over here! No? not this either? I think…Hold on, there was a site I was just in a couple minutes back…
And so on.
This is good information. A good time to practice unconditional friendliness toward the little me that lost her way. Not to ignore the addiction, but see it for what it is; and know that while she’s powerless over it, she can ask her spirit guides to help her take her fingers away from the keyboard and please please go to bed.