The Lost Art of Slamming a Phone
There was a time, before texts, read receipts, and “per my last email”,
when you could end a conversation with authority.
I’m talking about slamming a phone.
Not pressing a button. Not lightly tapping “end call.”
I mean physically slamming a phone down so hard it startled the room and sent a message:
This conversation is over. I win.
It was cathartic. It was visceral.
And for those of us who avoid conflict like it’s a group text from our extended family, it was our moment.
We didn’t yell. We didn’t argue.
But we could hang up like a boss.
These days?
You tap a red circle.
And then just sit there…
alone with your reflection in a black screen,
wishing it had the same finality as a clack from a plastic receiver.
Even Alexander Graham Bell probably understands what I mean more than Gen Z.
And that’s historically weird.
Why does it feel so good?
Why does slamming a phone, snapping a pen, or dramatically setting down a cup feel like therapy?
Because sometimes, we just need a micro tantrum.
A mini moment of chaos to let out the steam before the balloon pops.
We don’t have time for full-blown meltdowns.
We have jobs. Families. Car warranties to renew.
But a harmless clack, snap, or thud?
That’s adult screaming into a pillow.
Hard plastics just happen to be nearby when we need a volunteer.
I kick into the air and let out a quick downturned “meow”,
when what I really wanted to say was:
Well fackin’ A, that was rude.
Now I know some of you are thinking:
“RaeAnne, use that energy! Go for a run! Lift something! Exercise!”
And to that I say:
nothing.
Cardio-based therapy? Not for me.
I’ve tried the gym-tension-release thing.
I’ve done the solo running.
But my body?
It’s not into cardio-based therapy.
I walk a treadmill and end up starting three new businesses in my head.
So it’s actually more cost-effective not to exercise,
so I’m not left alone with my own thoughts and another idea to chase.
So why do we feel on edge all the time?
Why are we always this close to screaming into a coffee filter?
Because social media became an emotional conveyor belt
of opinions, confessions, celebrations, trauma dumps, and heartbreaks.
All before your second cup of coffee.
Remember when it was fun?
Vacation pics. New puppies. Kitchen renos.
Oddly captivating gender reveal cakes.
Just harmless windows into each other’s lives.
But then we all started over absorbing.
Yeah, I’ve done it too.
I’ve posted cryptic vague “I’m fine :)” statuses.
I’ve shared things I thought were hilarious,
only to wake up at 2 a.m. in a panic spiral wondering if I should delete them
or pretend they were part of my mysterious artistic phase.
You can’t have the good without the messy.
The happy without the sad.
The completely ridiculous mixed in with the truly ground-breaking.
So where’s the balance?
If you're feeling out of control…
I’ll offer this, because I’ve been on both sides of it:
Ask yourself,
“Am I subconsciously carrying too much of the world right now?”
Would I even know about half of these things
if they weren’t buzzing into my palm like an emotional slot machine?
Would I even know about half of these things
if they weren’t sprinkled into my feed between the people I do care about?
Here’s the conclusion I’ve come to:
The world still sucked
before we had a front-row seat to it 24/7.
We just didn’t know about every feud, injustice, or life announcement in real-time.
I know this… because I stepped back from it.
Nine months ago, after closing businesses, letting the house settle, and entering a quieter chapter,
I took a break.
No announcement. No unfollow spree.
Just… quiet.
And yes, I’ve missed things.
Someone says, “Did you hear about…?”
And I haven’t.
Cue the triple head tilt like I just said I churn my own butter by hand.
But on the flip side…
During one of the most isolating times of our lives—COVID,
social media was a lifeline for me.
As a social butterfly,
someone who thrives on connection,
it helped me survive that time.
I made videos. I made music.
I tried to brighten someone's day,
even if just a little.
It gave me purpose.
So it’s wild that now, years later,
I’m taking another break.
During another huge shift in my life.
New empty nester.
Husband’s life change.
Closing a final storefront.
Shutting down a nightclub I dreamt about for ten years.
So maybe that’s the point:
We get to choose when to flip the switch.
Turn it on. Turn it off.
And no, I’m still not great at it.
But now I can recognize when I need to reach out,
and when I need to reach in.
And you know what?
Sometimes I sit and stare at the sky,
or grass, or stars, or water,
usually when my phone dies,
and I think:
Wow… I used to just DO this.
I was alone with my thoughts.
Just mine.
And I was… happy.
I’m happy now too.
Just a tense happy.
Happy with a side of cortisol.
And sometimes I wonder…
Who was the first person to post something real?
Not “here’s our dog” or “look at this smoothie bowl.”
But “I’m struggling.” “I’m lost.” “Here’s what happened.”
I bet it was powerful.
I bet it made everyone else say,
“Wait… we can say stuff like that?”
And then we did.
One by one, we dipped our toes in.
Sharing the harder parts, if we wanted to.
The raw parts. The human parts.
The real parts.
And when vulnerability is met with applause, it feels empowering.
But when it’s met with silence or criticism?
It feels like you yelled your secrets into a crowd that turned the lights on and walked out.
Now we’re all online…
Trying to be honest, but likable.
Vulnerable, but curated.
Open, but not too messy.
No wonder we’re all emotionally shrieking into throw pillows.
When I came onto the social media scene,
people started sharing more personal things.
And of course, it makes you feel like:
“Hey, I’ll share too! It’s relatable!”
It becomes a chain reaction.
You share.
I share.
And now we’re all standing in the virtual driveway
trauma bonding over seasonal depression and food allergies.
To me, sharing is therapeutic.
It clears the attic in my brain.
To some, it’s terrifying.
To me? It just works. Whether you like it or not.
That’s the beauty of social media:
If you don’t like it… keep scrolling.
But here’s the problem,
Our brains don’t get the memo.
We absorb these little bursts all day,
carrying other people’s everything in micro doses.
Like lint. That sticks. And lingers.
Case in point:
A stranger on TikTok once said about my sketch:
“Barely even considered a sketch.”
First of all sir,
It was a doodle.
A scribble. A song-inspired scribble.
Out of my therapy journal.
Not a gallery submission.
It looped in my head for days.
Because sometimes we’re already overstimulated,
and one poke to the soft spot becomes a full spiral.
And what do people say?
“Just don’t care.”
“Be yourself.”
“Don’t worry about what others think.”
To which I say:
That’s the dumbest advice ever
for someone who gets physically nauseous from confrontation.
If it were that easy to not care,
don’t you think I’d have selected that setting by now?
I care. I overthink. I spiral.
But I also love people. I love connecting.
And I’m getting better.
I’m writing. Growing.
Trying to say what I mean while being respectful.
I’m not perfect.
I can absolutely be a bitch.
But I hate hurting people’s feelings. I hate confrontation.
And yes, I hate when someone hands me a lukewarm bag of takeout without saying “have a nice day”
and I have to resist the urge to hit a high C out of emotional spite.
Also?
People who are “just being honest” online
are rarely ever “just being kind.”
They don’t hand out compliments.
They float through the comments section like emotional drive-by shooters.
That’s the energy I unplug from.
That’s when I realize I’m carrying people’s moods I didn’t ask for.
So I log off.
I unplug.
And yes, it’s terrible advice for someone whose entire career
has used social media to market, connect, and survive.
If we all unplugged when overwhelmed,
we’d go back to flyers, mixers, and awkward name tags that say:
“Hi, I make candles and have anxiety.”
But the truth?
You gotta check yourself before you emotionally wreck yourself.
Unplug before you break.
Log out long enough to remember who you are.
Not the “you” filtered through 700 reels and 6 mental tabs open.
Then…
kick the air, meow once, and carry on.
🔁 Feel free to share this with someone who might need it today.