The little red “1” appears on the top right corner of the WhatsApp icon on my phone. I’ve just finished checking messages from the 1,678,844 groups I’m in, and now this happens.
“Does anyone know where to get a passport in LA?” the member of a local synagogue group writes.
Do I answer, or do I let it sit? Surely, someone else will answer.
But I can’t stop myself. I’m too helpful!
I spend five minutes writing out the answer, finding the right links to send to this person, explaining all the steps and wishing them luck. I hit send and put down my phone. Phew.
The “1” pops up again. Now what? My eye is starting to twitch.
“Yeah but where can I get one FAST LIKE TODAY? I’m going to Israel in 46 hours!” the group member exclaims.
I know the answer, but I didn’t see a “thank you.” Do I reply? Do I not? I let it sit, putting my phone face down.
I want to help her, I really do. Gosh. I feel the sweat dripping down my forehead. My heart is beating fast. If I don’t answer her, will she find out what to do? Will she think I’m ignoring her? I pick up my phone again.
“Try the Federal Building,” I write.
She shoots back, “What is this Federal Building? Where is it? How do I get there?”
I’ve had enough.
“Please Google it,” I say, sighing.
WAGA is a (fake) medical condition where you belong to too many WhatsApp Groups that you check too often and feel anxious because you check them too often.
I have what I call WAGA – WhatsApp Group Anxiety. WAGA is a (fake) medical condition where you belong to too many WhatsApp Groups that you check too often and feel anxious because you check them too often.
Yes, I’ll admit: WhatsApp is incredibly helpful. If I want to find events going on in my neighborhood or ask about what time the pizza shop is open after Shabbat or give away some stuff I don’t need anymore, I turn to WhatsApp.
But like many apps, WhatsApp is mostly a waste of time. I spend way too much time checking the groups I’m in, feeling bad about the news I see on there and sometimes experiencing another (fake) medical condition, FOMO (fear of missing out).
Of course, there’s the drama too. You would think that people would learn by now not to bring up politics in a public forum, but nope. People will express their political opinions with memes or sweeping statements about politicians or the hot button issues of today, and inevitably, someone will get upset. A little back and forth spat will ensue. An admin will come in like a referee, getting in the middle of the two contenders, and tell them to cut it out or else. In the WhatsApp world, that means exile. You may be asked to leave the group. Or, you may passive aggressively leave before this can happen, and everyone will know it because it displays that you’ve left.
Speaking of which, that’s another thing I get anxious about. What if I don’t want to be part of a group anymore? It’s going to announce to everyone that I’ve opted out. “Hey guys,” I want to say, “it’s not personal! I’m just sick of checking my phone!”
Now, you’re probably thinking: Doesn’t this lady know she can mute the groups? Then she won’t see notifications.
Ha. You think I don’t already do that? Sometimes, it gives me more anxiety knowing that chats are happening and I’m not seeing the notifications. It’s an unbreakable, unwinnable WAGA cycle.
There are just too many distractions today. Nobody can think. Everybody believes they are busier than they really are because they’re always on their phones. It’s (fake) busy-ness. Answering WhatsApp group chats, as well as going on social media or checking email, is typically not productive. And, of course, it’s making us into nervous wrecks.
My advice? Put down the phone. Turn focus mode on. Take some time to be quiet, to be unproductive, to be bored. Hear yourself think. Reconnect with yourself.
And then, once you’re ready to approach communication from a good place – and not a place of anxiety – you can connect with others on your phone in a healthy, meaningful and fulfilling way.
Kylie Ora Lobell is the Community Editor of the Jewish Journal. Want to reach me? Please send me an email at kylieol@jewishjournal.com.
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