E-mail addiction can be a depressing situation

My name is Sherry, and I am an addict. I have an embarrassing condition that I hesitate to talk about. It isn’t something that a cream can fix. It’s not something that a drug can cure. But it is serious and can incapacitate me for days if I don’t get my fix. My life can be rolling along just fine. Everything is going great with my family, my writing, my friends – and then one day it happens.

I wake up, grab my robe and stagger into my office to check my e-mail. “No New Messages” flashes on my screen. Disappointed, I push the “Send and Receive” button again, just in case there’s been some mistake. “No New Messages.”

OK, I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I head down the hall for the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror I cringe at what the evil hair fairy did to me in the night. I brush my teeth, snarl at the scales and head to the kitchen to grab a Diet Pepsi. Hoping I’ve stalled long enough that an e-mail may have come through, I hurry back to the office and press “Send and Receive.” After only a moments hesitation I see the words once again, “No New Messages.”

Sigh. Depression starts to set in. I’m forced to work on an article I told my editor I’d have ready by the deadline. After checking my e-mail seven times in the first 10 minutes, I give up on the article. I just can’t concentrate if someone hasn’t made an attempt to communicate with me.

Like an illness creeping in to ruin my day I begin to feel sluggish. I call my service provider and ask if everything is working OK and I’m told their spam filter has gone berserk, bouncing back all e-mails. They think it’ll take a day or two to work out the bugs. I panic. What am I suppose to do? What if my editor is trying to contact me? What if someone in my writers group needs me? I dive deeper into my depression. How can I be expected to work if I can’t get my messages? I feel as if I should lay down with a blanket and a cool compress on my forehead, and a bowl of my mom’s potato soup, just like when I was sick as a child.

Suddenly, I realize I have a problem. This can’t be normal. I lived my whole life without e-mail and now my body actually develops lethargic, depression symptoms when my server’s down. I felt like a drug addict, wanting to shout, “I can quit any time I want!” but I can’t. I was actually going through e-mail withdrawals. There’s a helpful group for every kind of addiction, there has to be someone who can help me.

I Googled “addictions” and found people have addictions to all sorts of things; alcohol, drugs, tobacco, sex, love, food, pornography, gambling, shopping, internet surfing and exercise, but nothing on e-mail. I can’t be the only one, can I?

I started asking around and found that many people rarely check their e-mail at all. Some have the discipline to check their messages only once a day. Once a day! That’s like buying a Hershey bar and only allowing myself one square per day until the whole thing is gone – 12 days later! The only people I can think of who could successfully manage such a feat are the ones who willingly subject themselves to a Triathlon to prove they can do it. Sadly, I am not one of those people.

Throughout the day I check back frequently to see if the e-mail is up and running yet. I mean really, do I need to go down to the server and sort through the spam filter myself? I can’t stop thinking about the messages that must be bouncing back to the senders or sent to a black hole. How many people think I’m ignoring them? What if an editor accepts my children’s manuscript by e-mail and I never know about it? What if Borders is announcing a surprise eighth “Harry Potter” book?

Feeling like I’m stuck in limbo I mope around the house unable to function properly. I call my mom. I call my friends. I call my dog and consider calling the cops on my server for harassment. After an unproductive day where I hit rock bottom, I entered my office once again. The cursor hovered over the “Send and Receive” command. Saying a quick prayer, I clicked. Connected. Authorizing. Receiving message 1 of 147. Yes! It’s a dream come true. My messages flood in at an alarming rate – just the way I like it.

I took joy in answering and deleting each and every one. Then I pulled up my article and worked through the night, making my deadline. Like I said, my name is Sherry and I am an addict.