The PC Weenies

The constant influx of news, links, status updates and photos is slowly, but surely, wearing me down. It’s changing me as a person. I check my social media feeds as soon as I wake up and force myself to sleep by repeating the same rounds at night. I’m always refreshing my feeds, like a fiend craving another hit.

The fact is: I’ve been active on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram for quite some time. Although these social networks are fun and entertaining (and certainly useful for sharing information and chit-chatting with other professionals), I’ve noticed that the distractive, immediate, and constantly perpetual nature of social media is really starting to eat away at me. It impacts my productivity, sure – but I’m starting to think that, slowly but surely, it’s also impacting my happiness.

So, in an effort to bring about a sense of clarity and focus, I’ve taken a personal vow not to “tweet”, Facebook, or Instagram anything for a total of 24 hours, starting at midnight on Thursday June 20th and ending on midnight of June 21st. If this goes well, I might consider extending my departure to a few days, and so on.

Of course, I’ll still continue to blog and reply to my email correspondences. Really what I’m doing here is opting out of social media for one day. Willingly. Because I want to see how it feels.

Who’s with me?

-Krishna

“Your dad’s going for surgery. He should be back home in about a week.”

That was my mom, telling me the news over the phone nearly three weeks ago.

I’m writing this from my dad’s hospital room. It’s Thanksgiving day.

There’s no turkey. There’s no big family gathering with kids running around. There’s no parade or movie marathon.

It’s just my mom, my dad, and myself in a small hospital room. My dad has been here for 21 days.

I’m typing this on a hospital recliner, sitting next to mom and dad. It will also serve as my bed. The room is sterile and cluttered, but it will be my home for the next three days. I don’t complain; mom’s been living here in this room, at my dad’s side, throughout the entire ordeal.

Dad’s conscious but he’s weak. He’s lost a considerable amount of weight. He has an endless stream of IV fluids connected to him. There are beeps and bloops from surrounding equipment. Despite his current state, he is on the road to recovery. I am thankful for that.

Mom’s in the adjacent hospital bed. She’s exhausted beyond words. My presence here has afforded her some much needed rest. And for that I am also thankful.

I barely recognized my father when I arrived at the hospital this afternoon. Dad’s lost a good 20 lbs. His face is gaunt. He is tired, but despite his general discomfort and pain, he stood up from his bed to greet me when I arrived. His sleep is restless. The IV supply forces him to use the restroom almost every hour. Nearly every hour or so, a nurse comes in to check on him.

This isn’t how I pictured spending Thanksgiving, but in an odd way, it’s what I needed to experience.

You see – for me Thanksgiving isn’t about turkey, Black Friday sales, or football. It’s about recognizing that the time you have with the ones you love is finite and precious. That it’s important to not throw away or squander the opportunities you have to spend time with the ones you love.

I have never been more reminded of that fact than now.

-Krishna