Learning to say no to (nearly) everything

In a world where comparative behaviour has been normalized to the point of self-effacing loathing, at what point will humanity be allowed the cathartic release of the pause button without being confronted by the daunting reflection of societal judgement, or a looming, aggrandized fear of failure.

 We still reflect on the positive and negatives of COVID-19. On the upside, the freedom to work from home. The liberty to dictate your hours and to no longer be tied to the precise geographical coordinates of your desk. On the flipside, a planet that has, thus far, lost seven million as casualties to the virus and a people left mentally, morally and financially crippled. 

 

The shackles of lockdown taking generations to shatter.

 

So, in the wake of the health authorities and bureaucracy imposing a handbrake on the ever-spinning axes of the earth, why does it seem impermissible to allow the windmills of our mind a brief repose from the gusting currents of external forces. 

 

Are we now a generation that will continuously be on the backfoot? Are we dragging the years and effects of lockdown as an ever-present cadaver of lost time. Are we constantly in fight or flight mode; waiting for life, as we know, or knew it, to be ripped from the underfoot tread of the paths we have yet to discover.

 

Our society has shifted from a fear of missing out, to a fear of catastrophic “what ifs.” A trepidation to live every moment as if it were our last. Burning ourselves out to the last shredded ember of human existence, in agitation of never waking again.

 

However, does the true terror lie in the assumed desire to repeat the cycle; to succeed time after time. To put ourselves on display once more. To prove to the world that we are worthy adversaries, that our point of view is relevant, that we have the stamina to plough ahead without taking stock of our own mental health, where our true freedom lies. Are we dreading waking up to face ourselves, to face the world, once more.

 

Yes, COVID may have facilitated the concept of a mobile office, however, the virus, alongside our co-dependent toxicity to our smartphones, our devices, have led us to a path that has outwitted the majority of the global population to the point of no longer being in control of the adequate and healthy parameters of interaction. Interaction with our workspace and interaction with our peers. The freedom we perceive to have obtained, is in fact liberty masquerading as a takeaway office. Available at all hours of the day, from wherever we are, for as long as is required.

 

Gone are the days of pigeon post. Gone are the times of waiting a reasonable length of time for a response to an email, a text, a social media message. We now live in a society where an “out of office” automatic reply raises eyebrows. We have permitted ourselves to exist in a construct where intrusive behaviour is akin to harassment being legally acceptable.

 

The supposed freedom gained by COVID has, through an entangled ball of string, ensnared us into the Minotaur’s labyrinthine dwelling place of our very own inner thoughts and fears.

 

“What if somebody answers the email before I do? What if it is an emergency? What will my boss think if I leave slightly early tomorrow?”

 

This ailing sense of “what if” has also translated into our online social media interactions.

 

“What time should I upload the post? What image will get me better traction? What if I do not get enough views or likes on the post. Should I delete it?”

 

I recently moved country and, so, have updated the region settings on my Apple ID account which meant that I had to unsubscribe from all apps to then re-subscribe through the store front of the new, updated region. In doing so, the famed blue verified tick from my Instagram was removed, pending re-activation. Apparently trapped in a wormhole algorithm, impossible to regain, I too went down a sinkhole of “what ifs.”

 

“What if I never get the blue tick back? What will people think? What if this harms or affects my business?”

 

After forty-eight hours of narrowing tunnel vision, I finally got myself from a place of “what if” to a grounded footing of “who cares.”

 

If my human existence needs to be verified, validated and labelled through the cost of a $12 subscription, then I can be counted out from participating in the frivols of external affirmation.

 

I shall now permit myself the pause from uploading content that I feel should be uploaded. I will refrain from questioning at what times I think this content should be posted and I will cease to question: “What if people remark upon my absence from social media.” 

 

Well, to the majority of you, quite frankly, I no longer care. Suggesting we all take stock, heed and oil the brakes on our ever-speeding, overweening ambition and come to the realisation that not everyone, not everything, is as pressing or urgent as it may appear.

 

If we live in a world where prioritising our boundaries and personal space has become socially unacceptable, the train of life is heading for a high-impact, high velocity derailment of epic proportions.

 

I, for one, am hitting pause with the handbrake firmly on.