…and I am addicted to my phone. Yes, you read that right. I’m an almost middle-aged woman (ALMOST), a wife, a mom and a working health care professional who cannot imagine life without my phone. It didn’t happen overnight and it didn’t happen over weeks. It just happened. One day, I found myself carrying my phone around like a lightsaber, and had become the person I vowed never to be. I think the person most surprised by this, is me. I had been anti-technology. I turned my nose up at those “iPhone Users,” rarely went on Facebook (still don’t), and looked at my husband blankly whenever he tried to show me how some thingie worked (still do that, too).

But then I wrote a book. (Notice how I didn’t include “writer” in my description above). Now, isn’t that ironic? It took me writing a book to lead the way to my phone addiction. I was researching how to publish a book, and realized how important social media had become when trying to publish anything. So I broke down and opened a Twitter account. I tweeted here and there, and diligently followed other writers for the follow-back, hoping to drive up my ever important follower count. The more followers you have, the more relevant you are, right?

Wrong. As I followed more and more writers, I noticed myself not caring about other writers’ tweets about their published books, much less their follower count. Not once did I click on the link they posted or even bother reading the 140 character tweet about their book. What I did notice were words. Funny words, heartfelt words, sardonic words and most of all, the people behind those words. The people who were tweeting words about their lives, about THEM, made me want to read anything they wrote. So that’s what I started doing. I viewed Twitter as a public stage where I could tweet 140 character mini-books. I would grow my account into a platform where I could show a prospective literary agent my “likability” or I could use it to publicize my books if I chose to self-publish. I was hoping to grow to 1K followers or maybe 5K one day.

At first, there was little interest in my words but as time went on, and my notifications grew, my phone grew more attached to my hand. There is just something about being heard without being seen. So much of our life is based on our looks or appearance. It’s what people see first before you ever open your mouth. I’ve always been reserved, have filtered what I’ve said for fear of rejection or being misunderstood. On twitter, there’s this sense of security that no one is really listening or caring about what you say when really, you hope there is. For me, twitter has been one big, “I hear you.” It doesn’t matter what I look like, what I’m wearing, what my weight is or what my hair looks like. It’s all about my words. Some hear and agree with me while others do not. And for the first time in my life I can honestly say that I really don’t care who does or doesn’t agree with me because I have found my voice.

So… almost 45K followers, a handful of very good friends, a few life lessons, an Instagram account, a Blackberry and two iPhones later, I acknowledge this addiction to my phone, to being heard. I’ve actually gotten a lot better with putting down my phone and disengaging myself from my notifications but my writing has been calling me as of late. No, this isn’t my resignation from my phone but I’ve been gone from writing for far too long and I think it’s time to return to my original addiction… writing. It’s time for me to listen to my own words.