My box is so cluttered. If a Feng Shui master were to assess my box, that master would most likely tell me that all the clutter is draining my energy, the energy in my box, my digital box. My digital energy is leaking, leaking from my box. I have a leaky digital box, and it is taking a toll of my actual life. My email inbox overfloweth.
My first personal email address was a Hotmail account in the 90s. I get very little mail there bar the occasional message from a select group of people for whom old habits die hard. I forgive them because I love them, but it is a constant reminder that I was on email when Hotmail was the only game in town – around the same time that I the Nokia 9000 was just as hot as Hotmail. Not. Notmail.
Since setting up that address, I’ve opened up two Gmail accounts (because the first email handle just didn’t seem to present well on a resume), a North Jersey Pride account, my VillageQ email account, my Listen To Your Mother account, my Peaches & Coconuts account, a me.com account assigned to me in order to access iCloud, and a Yahoo account I used for a Yahoo group I joined once upon a Yahoo group era.
Apparently, email accounts are like handbags. I have an email account for every occasion and an account to match every hat that I wear. But, do I have more bags than I need? Do I know what’s in all my bags or will I find that organic beeswax, jojoba oil, lavender infused lip balm that I bought last year in the bag I haven’t used since May along with that Metro card with $30 on it that I know is somewhere? Maybe it’s not that I have too many email accounts but too many emails. I tend to hold on to more than I should. I do not have the reflexes I once had in Y1K to respond, file and delete at fast pace. Then again, I didn’t wear as many hats.
It’s been a year of YES. I took on more preschool hours and more extra curriculars. I am spread thin as my thighs spreads wide (and sadly not in a sexual way). I’m spending more time in front of the computer and eating mindlessly while I write, email, spreadsheet, schedule. Tonight’s menu includes a pairing of blog writing and chile & lime chips.
I’ve hit capacity. My leaky inbox can take no more, and I surrender to the limits of my abilities and my waistband. It’s time to filter, to focus, to cull, to let go.