When Did We Decide Everyone Deserved Instant Access to Us?

I love technology.

Really, I do.

I run a business because of it. I meet with clients through it. I FaceTime my grandchildren. I can order groceries from my couch and Google the random question that pops into my head at 10:17 at night.

Technology has made our lives better in countless ways.

But somewhere along the way, I think we accidentally made a deal we never intended to make.

We decided that because people can reach us...

they should be able to.

Maybe it's because I'm 57, but I remember when there were unwritten rules about showing up at someone's house.

If the porch light was off, the shades were closed, and it was nine o'clock at night, you didn't knock on the door unless someone had invited you over or there was a genuine emergency.

You also didn't stop by at seven in the morning simply because you happened to be awake.

It wasn't rude.

It was respectful.

People had lives.

They had quiet evenings.

They had privacy.

Fast forward to today.

Our phones buzz while we're eating dinner.

While we're watching our child's soccer game.

While we're helping with homework.

While we're having a conversation.

While we're lying in bed trying to convince our brains that, yes, sleep really is a good idea.

Somewhere along the way, we started carrying our front door in our pockets.

And I think we've confused having access with having permission.

Those are not the same thing.

I tell my clients that I have what I call the Pony Express philosophy when it comes to texting.

When I send a text, I picture handing it to a rider on horseback.

Maybe the horse got tired.

Maybe they ran into a storm.

Maybe they stopped to water the horse.

Maybe two Pony Express riders met along the trail and spent half an hour catching up because they hadn't seen each other in years.

Who knows?

The point is...

I have absolutely no idea what happened after I hit "Send."

So why would I immediately assume the worst?

Unfortunately, our brains have other ideas.

Five minutes go by.

"They're mad at me."

An hour goes by.

"I shouldn't have sent that."

By bedtime...

"Well...I've ruined the friendship."

Meanwhile, they're trying to get spaghetti sauce off a three-year-old, standing in the cereal aisle wondering why they walked into the grocery store, or their phone is sitting on the kitchen counter while they're simply living their life.

Our brains are prediction machines. They don't like unanswered questions, so they fill in the blanks. Unfortunately, if you struggle with anxiety or have lived through difficult experiences, your brain doesn't usually write a romantic comedy.

It writes a psychological thriller.

One of the simplest things I've done to protect my own peace is put my phone on Do Not Disturb every night.

The only people who can reach me are my children and my partner.

And trust me...

They all know it had better be important.

I also give them that same respect.

One place I've become especially protective of is my bedroom.

It used to be a place for sleep, conversation, intimacy, and maybe a good book.

Now it's an office.

A movie theater.

A shopping mall.

A newsroom.

Social media.

And apparently the perfect place for someone to text at 10:43 p.m., "Quick question..."

(Spoiler alert: It almost never is.)

Technology isn't the problem.

Our expectations are.

Healthy relationships don't require unlimited access to one another.

They require trust.

So tonight, before you plug your phone in, ask yourself one question:

Who has actually earned the right to interrupt my peace?

If your answer is "everyone," it might be worth asking yourself why.

Have you slowly come to believe that being a good friend, a good parent, a good employee, or a caring person means being constantly available?

Or have you simply gotten used to a culture that quietly taught you that every notification deserves your attention?

Maybe it's time to question that belief.

Maybe it's time to remember that just because someone has access to you doesn't automatically give them permission to interrupt you.

Technology is one of the greatest inventions of our lifetime.

I wouldn't want to live without it.

But it doesn't get a key to my front door.

And it certainly doesn't get one to my bedroom.