I’m hoping I can write a blog that I can link for those who I accidentally ghost. I’m hoping to create a resource for my forgetful friends as well. So, if someone sent you this blog, they’re sorry for not texting you back. They probably had an important blog to read and forgot. And me? I had an important blog to write.
Consider this an apology letter.
As I type this post I’m only at 32 unread texts, which is an achievement. I’m normally only panicking if I’m over 100. This is not to brag or to say I just can’t keep up with the texts because so many roll in. It is to actually say that not that many roll in, in my brain there is just a disconnect between seeing a notification and my internal clock that gauges an appropriate response time. It’s an exam with no required date for it to be taken. You can always study for it, but will you? If you’re still confused at this point, you probably got straight As in college.
It feels impossible to describe the cycle of emotions that go through my mind when I’m struck with a reminder that I accidentally let a message sit for too long and it’s spoiled or no longer relevant. “Grab a beer tomorrow?” turns into a time capsule full of Gamestop stock that was opened too late, after the short squeeze ended. “Hi friend! Just wanted to check in. How are you doing?” becomes a bouquet of flowers left on my doorstep the day before I went on a big trip. “Mason. Call me. -Mom'' becomes a mailed parking ticket that got mixed in with my roommates’ mail piles.
The general emotions felt when I’m thinking about a text from a day, a week, or a month ago are dismay, disappointment, and abject panic.
The emotional toll of my own actions (or lack thereof) got so bad that I googled “why am I so bad at texting back” and got a wide variety of results including an anxiety diagnosis, a shaming, and a “it’s totally normal, queen. You don’t have to text anyone back that you don’t want to.” I don’t think I was the target audience for that last one but man it felt so good to read that I almost just closed the chapter on thinking this was a problem right then and there.
I think the real issue is a combination of a few things, but if I truly knew I’d be spending time texting you back instead of writing. Most of this is a desperate cry for relatability, and if anyone reading this has any advice I’m more than happy to sit down and chat about your methods.
In conclusion, you are very important to me. Know that if you’re one of the people close enough to me to care to read this, I’d take the time to drive you to the airport or eat lunch with you or be a shoulder for you to cry on. I just may need a reminder or two if you need me to respond to your text. I’m not making excuses. I’m just asking for your forgiveness. Or a secretary.
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