No, I’m Not Always Available
No, I’m Not Always Available
Don’t apologize for disconnecting
Confession: I’m really bad at replying to messages. Sometimes it takes me days, even weeks, to get back to people. I constantly find myself typing out some variation of the words sorry for not getting back to you sooner, oops sorry I completely missed this, hey sorry I thought I replied! It’s an endless cycle: feel pressured to reply, feel guilty for not doing it, procrastinate, feel worse the longer I wait, finally apologise, they respond—and then I do it all over again.
I’ve tried to be better. I’ve made countless New Year’s Resolutions to respond quicker, set myself strict rules to always reply the same day, even added texting people back to my to-do list. Nothing works. But lately I’ve been wondering if that’s because there’s a problem with me, or if it’s this expectation to always be available, to be instantly accessible, that’s the problem.
Because it turns out I’m not alone in this. There are many others, particularly in Gen Z, who say they feel this constant pressure. Who let all their messages pile up to the point where they can’t face explaining themselves to everyone. Who can’t focus on work because they’re thinking about all the unanswered emails in their inbox. Who can’t be present in the moment because they’re worried about all the people waiting for a reply. And I’ve seen a lot of posts lately claiming that this is a symptom of ADHD, or an anxiety disorder. Some Zoomers even think they struggle to respond to everyone online because of social anxiety.
But think about it—now we’re expected to always be available. 31% of American adults say they are “almost constantly” online. Among Gen Z young adults, that figure is an astonishing 48%. Teenagers spend an average of nine hours a day on screens. We take our smartphones everywhere. There’s just no excuse not to get back to someone straight away anymore. I remember when I used to use MSN after school or chat on Skype with friends and we would say BRB (be right back!) or G2G (got to go!) when we signed out. Now there’s nowhere to go. We “no longer log off”. Some of us haven’t spent more than a few hours away from our phones since we first got them over a decade ago. We don’t say bye anymore because we’re always here.
Plus we have more messages than ever to keep up with. Adolescents now receive an average of 237 smartphone notifications a day. A quarter of 18 to 24 year-olds say they send or receive more than 100 texts per day, and over one in ten send or receive more than 200. That’s around 6,000 messages a month – more than double the figure for 25 to 34 year-olds. These days we’ve got group chats going off, voice notes to listen to, Instagram DMs to check, TikTok memes to react to, daily reminders that it’s Time to BeReal! We can’t even go for a walk without our Apple Watches alerting us with messages. Multiple conversations, all the time. And for older Gen Zers add in Zoom meetings, Team Messages, Slack notifications, calendar invite after calendar invite. Must respond. Must react. Must follow up. Suddenly we’ve got dozens of different unopened conversations, and facing them feels unbearable.
And don’t get me started on all these features that show when we’re online. Facebook’s Last Active feature. Instagram’s Active statuses. Snapchat showing when a Snap has been Delivered or Opened. Even dating apps do this now—Hinge has added a Last Seen feature; Tinder tells you which profiles are Online Now. Sorry, why am I entitled to know when someone last picked up their phone when I haven’t even met this person yet? For what reason does my running app need to show when I was Last Seen? And God knows why anyone needs to know when I was last active on Goodreads.
I used to feel pathetic for feeling anxious about these features, but now that I’m older I’m wondering, what is the actual point of them? Other than to stoke constant anxiety about why someone isn’t replying, or guilt that we haven’t gotten back to them yet? Give me one good reason why it’s useful to know that someone was Typing and then stopped. It’s completely unnecessary.
We always talk about Instagram likes and follower counts causing anxiety for adolescents but honestly, the most anxiety-inducing memories from my teenage years are those Read Receipts and Last Active statuses. Sending a selfie on Snapchat and seeing Opened 30m ago. Sending a flirty text and getting left on Read. Arguing with someone and seeing them type for ages before stopping and saying nothing. Thoughts race—why are they Active and not replying? Wait, their Snap Score has gone up, so they’ve clearly got time to respond to other people? Hold on, why have they posted their Story but haven’t got back to me? No wonder we’re socially anxious. No wonder we overthink everything we say. And that we’re all so distrusting of each other now. The way we grew up, human connection was a petty game. Right, I’ll leave you on Read then. Open my Snap and ignore me? Fine, I’ll post on my Story and deliberately leave you on Delivered.
So the pressure to always be available isn’t just bad for our mental health; it’s also bad for our relationships. Checking in with each other has become a chore. Getting back to my friends shouldn’t be a task on my to-do list. I think this is a big part of why people say friendships feel like admin now, and just another joyless thing to do on a screen. Take two days to reply and get a text saying ARE YOU ALIVE??? Accidentally leave a message on Read and an hour later be hit with helloooo? Take 24 hours for yourself and get hey hey hey we’re going to lose our Streak!! And we end up in this weird situation where so many of us feel lonely and disconnected, but also desperate to be left alone.
And our interactions have become so low-quality. If I’m expected to always be available and reply instantly, there’s no time to think about what I want to say. Sometimes I want to take my time! I don’t want to argue over text! Or flirt over Instagram! Maybe I’m not ignoring you, maybe I think you’re worth waiting for until I have time to give a proper response. It feels like some young people have this insane idea now that a good friendship is one that’s in constant communication, that it should be a never-ending conversation like a never-ending TikTok feed, even if you’re just sending each other blank Snapstreaks and stupid memes. If that’s friendship, no wonder none of us have time for it. No wonder we’re hanging out less. We’re sick of each other! How can you fully appreciate someone if you never get the chance to miss them or wonder what they’re up to? There’s nothing special about keeping in touch anymore, we killed it. We took all the sentiment out of it. When we’re always reachable, there’s no such thing as truly reaching out.
And the worst part is, when you’re always available to everyone you’re not fully available to anyone. Certainly not to the people right next to you. “When a conversation partner pulls out a phone, or when a phone is merely visible, (not even your own phone), the quality and intimacy of a social interaction is reduced,” Jon explains in Chapter 5 of The Anxious Generation. “(We) pull out our phone and spend some time pecking at it, leaving the other person to conclude, reasonably, that she is less important than the latest notification.” We’ve all done this, and felt guilty for it. But the problem is, we also feel guilty when we’re ignoring messages while busy with the people physically with us. If we leave someone on Read or take a few days to reply, aren’t we also telling them they’re not important? Guilt again.
The only answer, I think, is to be a little less available. My advice is to switch on Do Not Disturb. Absolutely turn off Read Receipts. Nobody needs to know when you were Last Active. Mute as many notifications as you can. Unapologetically use airplane mode when you are with friends and family, or need to focus. And I would say no tracking, anywhere. No SnapMap, no Find My Friends, no unnecessary pressure.
Then kindly let people know that, no, you aren’t always available. That you would like time to think about what to say. That you would like time to miss people, to feel grateful for who you have around. That you need some peace and solitude in order to accomplish anything. Nothing personal! Nothing to do with you, just want to forget myself for a moment! Nothing to do with you, just haven’t had one day without my phone since I got it at thirteen! Nothing against anyone, just would like a shot at having a creative or interesting thought once in a while! And can we please bring back the assumption that people will get back to you when they can? Some trust that we don’t all secretly hate each other? Some self-assurance that it’s not always a personal affront, that they will reply when they are ready.
And importantly, don’t apologise for disconnecting. Be respectful and courteous—respond to emergencies, get back to your romantic partner—but don’t say sorry to everyone, all the time, for not being instantly available. Don’t apologise for waiting a while to react to a TikTok. Or taking two days to respond to an email. Because seriously, what are we doing here? Saying so sorry I wasn’t Active, I was being actually active in real life? Sorry I left you on Seen, I was out seeing some of the real world? Don’t apologise for that! How do we stand any chance of disconnecting if we say sorry for taking a few hours to live our lives? If we give an excuse every time? My conversations with a close friend used to be this way, an endless back-and-forth of saying so sorry I didn’t get back to you, I’m the worst sorry! can’t believe I left it this long! until we finally decided to stop. We just said to each other, c’mon, we know we’re close friends. If there’s an emergency, we’ll respond. Nothing has changed; we know that. If there’s a problem we’ll say so. We’ll catch up when we see each other.
And here’s the thing: if we let ourselves be unavailable a bit more, maybe we won’t take it so personally when someone else doesn’t respond right away. Maybe we won’t get that horrible feeling in our gut when we see our Snapchat was Opened 30m ago and ignored, or our text was Read last night, or their typing bubble popped up and disappeared again. Maybe we can offer other people a little more grace to get back to us when they can. Less apologetic ourselves, more forgiving of others.
Because I don’t think the problem is us. I think the expectations are too high. Being expected to be available at any time, at any place. for any reason, isn't how humans are meant to interact. It’s not something to feel guilty about; it’s a sign that something needs to change. And by choosing to be less available, I think we will actually find ourselves more available. More present in our lives. More genuinely connected to the people and moments that matter.
So no, I’m not always available. I’m out being active. Living life in the real world. Come find me there, if you want. But until then, I’ll get back to you when I’m ready.
I’ve said it many times, and I’ll say it again. Deleting Snapchat was the best thing I did in college. This first step made it so much easier to reduce the anxiety around Instagram, iMessages, and group chats. Now I’m basically to the point where I don’t respond to texts unless something elementary can be expressed like, “What time are you going to be here?” Response: “4.” All my friends know if they want me, to call me. I actually return missed calls. Calls are so much better. You can knock out in 30 seconds what could possibly take half a day to communicate via text. And what’s the worst, the business that needs to be settled could’ve been done quickly over the phone would now linger in the back of your mind for the half day the text conversation is going on. Calls also allow for communicating things through tone of voice, jokes, and random quick conversational excursions like checking in on how a friend’s job interview went or how a relative’s surgery went.
There’s a reason why when you read little bits about the day in the life of various historical figures that they dedicated a part of each day or week to reading and writing correspondence. People were actually doing things and weren’t writing letters all day. Being “available” all the time is essentially the modern equivalent to writing letters all day. Put in that frame, it’s crazy that we do this.
Now one of my favorite Saturday morning activities is to wake up, leave the phone where it be, go out for coffee, walk my dog, maybe go to the farmers market, and be pleasantly surprised when I get back home to a phone full of texts. I don’t feel guilt because I was actually out doing things-- running into strangers and friends, reading, thinking, eating a damn good lemon bar. Then off to the races calling people back and setting up plans to get schwifty on Yellowhammers with the fellas at Avondale or setting a time to meet someone to hike or shoot or watch football or setting up dinner plans.
I write comments like this at times to communicate to others, maybe my age of Gen Z or younger, how wonderful this mundane little big world is. You’ve just got to try to pay attention to it. But that’s really hard to do if your attention is constantly wholly absorbed by this little black box no bigger than your hand. Everything is competing for your attention, but it’s yours to give. Don’t waste your attention, your life frankly, on tawdry imitations that flutter over a pane of glass.
As someone who regularly gets flak from friends for being a “bad texter,” I feel very seen here 😂
The decline of “third places” have resulted in our phones becoming that third space. I can have an entirely different life on my phone from my work or my home if I chose. For some, that’s a feature of modern life. I’m increasingly convinced it’s a bug.
I agree that we should not always be available. The “Part 2” to this essay I would love to read is what does being planted in the modern world look like functionally, particularly when we’re surrounded by people who actively oppose being rooted themselves?