Does Anyone Else Feel Like They’re Overcommunicating?
I didn’t think there was much of a problem until I was waiting to have my third FaceTime call of the day. I was swaddled in blankets on my couch, my phone just out of reach, when I thought God, I really hope this person doesn’t call me right now.
I jolted upright (and I mean literally jolted). I couldn’t believe that I was capable of thinking such an odd thought.
We are in the midst of a global pandemic. I scolded myself mentally. You have friends who care about you and want to make sure you’re okay. And you don’t want to talk to them because? Because???
That’s when I realized I might be “overcommunicating.”
For the sake of clarity, I’ll define overcommunication as keeping in constant, almost nonstop contact or communicating far more than one’s norm in the midst of crisis — for the sake of feeling comforted and out of fear of what is to come. And that’s exactly what I thought I should be doing from the moment I was told to stay home due to COVID-19. My typically “Do Not Disturb” phone was now on ring, waiting in unending anticipation to hear from my friends. I went from weekly catch-up calls to daily check-ins, all within the span of a few weeks. And it hasn’t slowed down. It doesn’t stop with friends — with my job switching from in person to working remotely, I basically made myself constantly available to anyone’s beck and call. Whenever I got a text, Instagram DM, or facetime call, I was there to answer.
At first, I thought that was the right thing to do. And, isn’t it? Don’t we all want to be there to support each other during a time as confusing and scary as this one? But living in a perpetual state of accessibility is exhausting and emotionally draining. I hadn’t prepared myself for the mental taxation that comes with listening to everyone else’s feelings. All. The. Time. I felt like my social battery was always in the red and there was never enough time to recharge before my phone rang and I needed to tend to someone else. It’s a feeling I’m unaccustomed to and I know I’m not alone in that. As tired as I felt answering calls, some of my friends felt absolutely drained making them. All I do know is talking to each other so much doesn’t feel healthy to any of us.
And that sounds terribly selfish. I feel like a bad person for even considering that I don’t want to talk to my friends. But that isn't exactly the problem. I do want to talk to my friends, just perhaps not so frequently. I hate to admit that I kind of miss the buffers of life, back when we all had jobs and all those other regular life things that keep us preoccupied. Before, there was nothing wrong with sending the occasional Snapchat or DM on Instagram and moving along. But now, everything has been upped in ante. Everything is tinged with this pulsing sense of urgency, so whenever I don’t pick up the phone just because I don’t feel like it, of course I feel guilty.
But the reality is this form of overstimulation just isn’t sustainable for some people, myself being one of them. Even as a self-identified extrovert, who typically loves a phone with thousands of notifications, handling it in quarantine has been more difficult. Time alone apart from quarantine is already incredibly essential, but during this time when everything feels like it’s falling apart, that time to decompress without worrying about everyone else is even more sacred. So, how do we communicate with our loved ones and keep the time to ourselves that is necessary for our own mental wellbeing?
Answer: honesty and boundaries. It may be difficult to tell someone that you just aren’t up to talking, with no “real” excuse behind it (although mental health is absolutely a real excuse), but it’s always better to tell the truth. Explain that if you don’t answer, it’s not because you don’t care, or you don’t want to talk, but rather that this is how you take care of yourself.
Most importantly, you need to establish boundaries that work for you. Accept that not everyone can handle being needed all the time, and that’s okay. Figure out what times of day you feel best, and set up calls for those times. The spur of the moment late night calls can still be fun, but they can also sometimes feel like a task. Ask your friends what their needs are so you can best figure out how you can both be there for each other. Carve out periods when you turn your phone off and do something that sets you at ease. If someone continues to break these boundaries, say no. A crisis is no excuse for disrespecting your boundaries. Be gentle with yourself, you’re doing your best.
This new territory is difficult for all of us and there’s no telling when we will return to the norm or if after this, we’ll have a new norm. But the best thing we can do for each other right now is learn how to support each other and ourselves. So if being alone for a little while, even if it means putting someone else on hold does that for you, don’t feel guilty about the way you need to look after yourself.
About the Author
Iyana Jones is starting her graduate program in Media Studies with New School. She found her passion for writing in high school for writing for the school paper and now has expanded her interests to lifestyle, pop culture, and identity. Her goal is to write as the missing first generational black female voice she wish she had found earlier in life. Outside of writing, she's likely to be found feeding stray cats or watching bad MTV shows unironically. You can read more of her work on her blog here.
