No matter how you slice it – it felt like an eternity.
My 4th anniversary will be etched in my memory in a rather peculiar way. Not because it was the first anniversary where I got to be in the company of the one I love (as we reside in different countries and anniversaries are celebrated through WhatsApp); and not because I was fumed and frustrated with myself for losing my expensive iPhone purchased only 4 days before my adventure to Fiji.
No,no, let me explain ~
I was flaming mad and cursed myself as over the years I developed this failproof system where my keys/wallet/phone are in a nifty case.
The combined importance of my keys, wallet, and phone in a snug setup dramatically lowers the likelihood of loss.
I had to develop this system because of my longer-than-life track record of losing things.
My former husband joked that if my head wasn’t attached to my body, I’d probably misplace it too.
Even with this tried and true system, I chose vanity over sensibility on that late November day. I wanted to look super cute and pretty for my polyamorous partner. I opted for a departure from the conventional and trustworthy keys/wallet/phone arrangement, instead tucking my phone into a stylish gold purse, perfectly complimenting my island-inspired anniversary ensemble.
That day I didn’t have sense or sensibility [forgive me Jane Austin].
Vanity won; logic lost.
When I first realized I lost my phone panic set in. It felt as though I’d lost a limb, leaving me disoriented and adrift. My phone serves as a lifeline to the world, connecting me with family, friends, and those I love. I ripped apart my Italian stitched backpack; rifling through each compartment and section of it; the zipped pockets were opened and re-opened; opened and reopened. Under my breath, I was cursing the gold purse (yeah, like it’s the gold purse’s fault!).
I had my partner go through the backpack just in case I overlooked something. Trying to keep my composure and incoming meltdown at bay while in the hotel lobby. I re-traced the day in my mind; the last time I used my phone was when I videotaped the farewell song sung by the hotel staff. So somewhere between leaving the first hotel, taking the ferry, getting onto the main island, into a taxi, and into the second hotel lobby. I lost the phone.
I know what you are likely thinking! Lady! Use the ‘find my phone’ feature! Yes, this is all fine and dandy when it’s not in airplane mode. However, I sadly knew a little airplane icon occupied the top right of my misplaced phone. I rendered my phone useless as it was in airplane mode and on silent. I still called the original hotel and ferry company and had the current hotel look at the video surveillance to see if we could get the taxi company’s name that dropped us off. All efforts yielded nothing. With fingers crossed, we bombarded the phone endlessly, hoping someone would answer it, but that was a dead-end pursuit.
The motto I coined, ‘surrender or go insane,’ popped into my mind to ease the situation.
I used my partner’s phone to text my three go-to people in the world who would want to know about my situation: my Mom, my youngest brother, and my boss. And then I surrendered to being disconnected.
As I allowed the disconnection to set in, another type of connection took over. It didn’t happen right away, but as the hours and days passed, the bond between brain and heart, heart and brain, became stronger.
Losing the phone allowed my brain and heart to connect without texts, the anxiety to fuel Instagram, bings, and notifications interrupting my signal.
I felt I was back in the 80s before the internet was in my pocket.
I could sense the thoughts and feelings sprinting between my heart and head. I felt peaceful, and anxiety took a curbside seat. The energetic exchange wasn’t interrupted or rerouted in any way. I was able to think, let my thoughts wander, call on and listen to my heart, reflect, and be.
Pondering and play came naturally without a phone in my hand to interfere with the signal. Uninterrupted time on the highway between my heart and head allowed ideas to weave aimlessly, without sudden stops, interruptions, and congestion caused by the device.
So what did I learn from being disconnected for those three days, 72 hours, 4320 minutes – or however you want to slice it? I came up with the next topic for my 2nd book.
Which will be about love.