Three Things I Learned When My Phone Was Stolen


Stephanie Knowles

I sat on my unmade bed percolating with fear and anxiety.

It was gone. It was really gone.

Lesson One:  Anxiety sucks.

While the tension in my body started to build (and it will when a thievish brute steals your lifeline to the world), I got hot and bothered. I got sweaty. Palms wet. Knees weakened.  My arms held the weight of 1,000 suns. All my memories were gone forever, at least until I could access the cloud again.  My photos. My contacts.  My life was over.  It was over temporarily. And that meant it was over.

Lesson Two:  You’re boring.

My generation has been raised with technology and social media. I have been conditioned that without social media, I am nobody. So, without my phone, an island onto myself, a spirit in the material world,  I stared blankly at my white crinkled ceiling bored out of my mind. I thought, “Hey, what are my friends doing?” But I had no contact with the outside world, and my isolation increased hour by hour. I start to read books to make time pass.  Long Chapters. Compound Sentences. New Words.  One minute felt like an eternity.

Lesson Three: Life is About Acceptance.

As days went by, accepted the fact that I was disconnected from the world.  I reverted to my animal state, and I was forced to adapt to my new environment.  I did things I normally wouldn’t do. I opened the door and walked outside.  I learned to cook. I acknowledged my parents and bonded with them. I accepted I didn’t know everyone else’s business, so I could actually think about my own.  I became aware of myself, little by little, my friends, my choices, my my.

But then I got a new phone.