I’m addicted to ‘reply’

Why ‘like’ has to become enough to acknowledge

I love when I ask for candid feedback on how I can become better at what I do. Whether it’s personal or professional, I believe only a fool despises wise feedback. Whoever is perfect, please pause and raise your hand. Now, quickly put it down because perfect people don’t raise their hand when no one else except for these words on a page is around to understand why they’re raising it. The good thing though is that you’re not an idiot. You’re just imperfect. And that’s ok because so am I. Here’s another way that I’m getting better.

I’m a Gemini. The twins. The social butterfly. The drama queen. The infamous communicator, and the envied ‘life of the party’ (don’t hate me, I didn’t brand it; the zodiac did). So, it comes without saying that when social networks and social media took off, I — and others like me — finally stepped onto the stage of life and said, “I am woman, hear me ROAR!” Social is my business. It’s what I do for a living with a pretty big tech company. But it’s also what I do as I’m living to stay connected to the people and things I value most. I’ve struggled with one really huge component of this whole social experience that has handicapped me: my addiction to the ‘reply’ button.

This addiction started with that innocent paper invitation from a boy I liked in middle school. It contained eight simple words, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” I don’t know about you, but this was a reply I couldn’t resist. Even in middle school I was smart enough to know that you couldn’t leave the cute guy hanging. He had three or four other girls lined up to receive this same letter (which typically meant he had three or four letters in his pocket). Boy, how times haven’t changed! So, replying immediately was really the only option if you were checking ‘yes’.

Fast forward to email. This was a primary way of communicating when I was in college and once I entered the workforce. I received a message, so I replied to the message. Sometimes the dialogue went on between me and the other person(s) for minutes, hours…days even. And sometimes I’d reply even when a reply wasn’t warranted. I’d reply just to acknowledge the note with a ‘thank you’ or a ‘have a great weekend’. My mind would play tricks on me and make me think that if I didn’t end the conversation with some type of ‘official’ closing, the person on the other end would be plotting my demise for being uncordial or leaving them hanging. Even when my gut would tell me the conversation had reached an acceptable end, my mind continued to taunt me to reply…just to be safe.

The digital age continues to evolve and now social media and social networking have all but replaced email in my personal and professional life. What hasn’t change, though, is my addiction to ‘reply’. And like any addiction, you can present alternative, better solutions to distract from the main addiction. But ultimately, addicts find their way back to what they know…what makes us comfortable. In social, a smart American computer programmer, Internet entrepreneur, and philanthropist by the name of Mark Zuckerberg discovered an ingenious way to wean reply-addicts like me off the sauce by including a ‘like’ button in conversations.

Many debates continue today about the actual purpose and relevance of the ‘like’ button, but most would agree that at the least, it serves as a form of acknowledgement by the reader that the digital voice (aka the post) being shared was heard (aka read). The like button encourages subsequent comments in the conversation that further the initial post in some value-added way. But for Gemini social communicator butterfly ‘reply’ addicts like me, the like button was our deer-in-the-headlights moment. We became habitual likers, not just on the post but also to the subsequent comments. And when that isn’t enough, we — ok I— feel compelled to comment so that the poster doesn’t think I’m being rude for not commenting. Or worse, for not commenting enough.

All of this, in reality, is just the perpetual ruse of my often animated and frequently undisciplined mind. The bondage of over-thinking has keep me incarcerated for too long. But today I was freed. Freed by the brave wisdom of a soul with the power and the purpose to care enough to care. Yes, care enough to care and be candid and constructive in the process. I can embrace the mantra that ‘like’ really is good enough, as both an acknowledgement and a reply.

Is my addiction broken? Not yet. But today I have decided to start my journey to the place called ‘less white noise’ and ‘more colorful listening’ where the ultimate goal is to create a positive impact, not appease my desire to please. So, you can share this blog, recommend it, comment on it; whatever you choose. But a simple ‘like’ is enough for me. Finally.

Dedicated to a friend…thank you.