phone dysfunction

I cannot answer my phone like a responsible grown up. 

You might think answering your phone is not really a skill one needs to master, but you would be wrong. I don’t know how to defend my breakdown in this department, but this is simply how I am. I believe it has to do with my neurons or my atoms or the plasma science. My phone rings, and I think NO. I WILL NOT ANSWER IT. I just can’t. I just can’t answer the ringing phone. I just cannot talk. These irrational thoughts flood my brain and I think them. I listen to the thoughts tell me that answering my phone is just not doable, and I think, “Yes. My thoughts are correct.” 

My friends – my friends, the ones I’m supposed to be friendly with – will tell you that I only answer my phone during one perfect storm: when I am driving somewhere. If I am doing absolutely anything else – sitting on the couch, doing important Facebook work, eating chips – I will let all calls go to voicemail. 

Then, against all reason and explanation, I will not check the voicemails. My husband actually has nightmares about this. My thoughts have ideas here too; they tell me, “If you don’t listen to the message, then you don’t have to do anything about it. It’s like it doesn’t exist.” My thoughts are always looking out for me, helping me avoid the dark struggles of life, like talking and answering questions. 

Right now, I have 17 unlistened to voicemails. I don’t know how I have any friends. 

When I imagine who I’m going to be when I decide to be a big kid, Jen Hatmaker is pretty much it.  Anyone who’s ever tried to call me needs to read this particular blog post.

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