The Anxiety of Wireless Things
The gentle vibration on my wrist wakes me just a couple of minutes after 6 a.m. My sleep cycle is reliably tracked by my Apple Watch Series 6, the perfect moment to wake me. Neither in a deep sleep phase nor a REM phase.
First, of the things I do, engrained by daily habit for months now, I put my watch on its charger. I am worried that it won’t get enough time there to get fully charged. The time that I need to get dressed for my running outfit and boost up with all the supplements for the day. Hopefully, it will suffice that my watch will at least track my run.
Dim-lit dawn on the horizon, and I am on the road running. I feel good today, even good enough to run past my usual 5K. The display tells me my heart rate at 131 bpm. Not too high, but not too low. I am optimistic that it will be a good run. I am passing the 5K, again a gentle vibration on my wrist. Today’s goal is achieved. Still, that pushes me beyond that. About fifteen minutes later, I am sure I got to the 7K. I check and see nothing. The black screen on my watch shows nothing, and suddenly I feel that my run never existed. Any dopamine rush immediately dies off; my lit-up reward center goes dark in an instant. The ten minutes on the charger weren’t enough. More frustrated than on a post-workout high, I put my watch back on the charger. I am already worrying about the half-hour lack of body data that will show in my health app.
At least it’s time for coffee. Prepping for that beloved process of brewing the perfect coffee on an already spoiled morning, frustration hits me again. My Gina Smart Coffee Maker went dark between yesterday morning and now. No warning in between that the battery was low. No chance to salvage an already shitty morning. I am diving deep in the kitchen cabinets to find the old analog kitchen scale. It takes me ten minutes, probably with a pulse on the unhealthy side of the 100 bpm out of anger and stress — but I would not know as the Apple Watch is still charging.
But alas, journaling time — always helps me write my anger away and focus on the day. Planning and priming myself for a glorious day. And luckily, the writing in the app translates into half an hour of mindfulness. The health app thinks I am meditating — or at least it would have. The battery symbol with a slim red line on the bottom taunted me that I forgot to charge my iPad yesterday evening. Again, a fail on my side to plan my day according to my charging duties. So again, diving into the kitchen cabinets looking for a charger. The kitchen counter was deliberately planning around an outlet. My wife and I knew how often we would be looking around for a power socket to charge our phones. Another ten minutes after, I successfully retrieve a charger, but it is the wrong cable. Of course, lightning cable for my iPhone X, no USB-C in sight for my iPad Pro. I am sure by now, my heart rate resembles the me being on a sprint in the woods, but in fact, I am just furious.
At least my coffee is ready and fueling my through-the-roof heart rate. I pick up my watch from the charger on the way to my office. Skipping my journaling today — sorry brain, no mindfulness this morning. No priming for success today but fully charged and charging with anxiety, putting up post-its to remind me in the evening to charge everything that needs charging. Another ten minutes of my workday dedicated to it. A time that won’t earn me money to buy fancy gadgets that tell me how well I am doing. Unfortunately, I stopped listening to my body but will get lost when this data is not available.
Afternoon arrives at this time of the year; the sun is already beginning to set — time for a stroll to clear the head, listening to a podcast to inspire thoughts. I am falling into a brisk walk, rummaging through the pockets of my coat to grab my Apple AirPods Pro. Small design with active noise-canceling, blocking out traffic noise, fully emerged in the voices in my head. But all that happens is that the voices keep blaring out of my phone speakers — no connection established between the two devices. No battery indicator on the AirPods case, but I am damn sure it would need charging. What else would it be that hinders a usage right now? No other phones on hand, I proceed my walk in silence — at least trying to imagine that while uproar passes me with every car alternating with the din of playing children. My thoughts get scattered in-between.
Not more evident in my head that before the walk, I return home. My steps luckily logged through my phone. A silver lining on my day, I will reach my goal for ten-thousands steps a day. Usually, this makes me feel better; this time, it is only bittersweet. My thoughts are predisposed with imagining a fool-proof charging routine.
In the evening, finally, I get to the blissful joy of a dopamine rush when my devices tell me how good I did today. I feel ashamed that I neglected some of them with leaving them insufficiently powered. Like a baby, I forgot to nurse. Late in the evening, I check twice that all chargers are plugged in. My head rests happily exhausted in the pillow. In sudden panic, I rise from my bed. My watch is still around my wrist, having forgotten to charge for the night while making myself ready for bed.
Just in time, I say to myself and put the watch on the charger. My phone tells me it will need 34 minutes to get enough juice into it to get through the night and monitor my sleep. I desperately tried to stay awake, watching the charging circle filling percent by percent. And then somewhere beyond the 27 %, I’d dose off into tossing and turning while being chased by power chords in my dreams.
