My low-grade conversational fever

I didn't used to recognize it as often as I do now. Perhaps it is age, or the additional speed of life that I've encountered since our latest move, or maybe I'm just now coming to realize the reality of my condition. Whatever the case, it has started getting to me. And I guess I'm wondering if I'm the only one. I think I've been running a low-grade conversational fever.

Speaking in medical terms, some maladies bring with them a low-grade fever. Its not so hot that you actually notice it, but it's there anyway. It doesn't stop you from getting out of bed or going to work. It just drains you. Like leaving your car lights on, over time a low-grade fever just draws down your battery, incrementally, until one day you can't start your car. A fever like this leaves you feeling empty, and you don't know why!

I often have the feeling that something is wrong, even when it isn't. Ever experience that? I'll be walking out to the car for my grueling 3 minute commute home after work, and a wave of anxiety will wash over me. It's not heavy, or even disconcerting, but its there, and I have to tell myself that nothing's wrong. But, throughout the night, and then the next day, it'll be there, right on the "desktop" of my mind. A feeling of apprehension mixed with anticipation seasoned with a pinch of dread. And like a low-grade fever, it just seems to be there, without explanation.

Well, I think I've stumbled upon an answer.

As a pastor, it seems I am always communicating. I am telling, or teaching, or answering or responding or defending or proposing or presenting or ... You get the idea. In other words, I am always involved in conversations, waiting for the response, responding to the criticism, answering the theological, biblical or practical question, defending a position or program, or any of a number of other actual conversational transactions. And when these are face to face, everyone knows when the conversation is over. We get out of the chairs, shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and put a mental period in place. And while we know that future conversations will take place in order for the problems to be solved - or whatever - for the time being, its over, done, complete. I can turn my mind's energy to other things. And that's quite freeing!

But here's the problem: Increasingly my "conversations" are of the variety that are never completed. Because so many of my conversations these days happen via twitter, text, email, or on Facebook, I find myself perpetually in the middle of 30-40 conversations! And here's what that does: I am always in a state of suspended readiness, wondering how and when and even if, my conversational partners are going to respond! How did they take my latest text, email, post or tweet? Did my explanation of why we're doing what we're doing make sense? Did it appease the cranky guy who thinks I'm a legalist? Was my answer to the chronological problems of 1 Samuel clear? Is Jeff going to get back to me in time to solve the dilemma? What I find is that, like some of my stereo components, I am never "off" but only in a state of "standby". It appears that my mind is semi-consciously keeping track of all these conversations, and even during my "off" hours, I maintain this low-grade, fever-like readiness that makes me notice every time my Blackberry message light blinks. And even when I turn the phone off, and get after the business of relaxing, the fever is there. I guess my mind knows that somewhere "out there", there are 30 or more people who have my thoughts in their hands, and are responding to them in ways that I can't know yet. I don't feel it consciously, but during those seconds in every hour that I feel the apprehension mixed with anticipation seasoned with dread, I now chalk it up to the fact that I'm standing in the middle of an electronically connected crowd expecting that at any minute they might all start talking to me at once.

It didn't used to be this way. In the days when we wrote letters to friends - with pens, on paper, with envelopes and stamps, via the postal service - we had the enjoyable knowledge that it would take days for the letter to be delivered, and days for our friends to respond. In other words, we could forget about the conversation without guilt knowing that it couldn't possibly be continuing for a couple weeks. We were free from the responsibility of either an immediate reply or consistent readiness to carry on the conversation. We didn't know how freeing that was!

But, it does no good to long for the "good ole days." In fact, today we have many more communicative advantages, and even with the price I pay emotionally, I wouldn't trade these days for those. However, I do have to get more emotionally fit if I'm going to play the game.

So, what to do? Actually, now that I've figured it out, I think I'll be fine. Perhaps I need only rely on one of my well-known weaknesses. It seems through my life that I have demonstrated an uncanny ability to tune folks out. My wife insists that I have a carefully nurtured sense of selective listening. So, I just have to train my mind to stop "listening" to all the conversations I'm in electronically. I'll have to develop the ability to ignore my IPartners the way I sometimes do those I'm standing near! Funny how a weakness I've worked hard to overcome seems to be the strength I need now. But, it'll have to do until I can start dealing with my low-grade, conversational fever with that IAspirin I've been working on.

Hope this helps,

David