Vibration Frustration

My name is Tyler, and I have a problem.

It strikes when I least expect it – sitting in class, at my desk or on the bus. I might be drifting off to a glorious daydream about life without Wright Place Food Court or trying to comprehend a particular piece of Elizabethan poetry in class.

All of the sudden, I’ll feel that familiar pulsing in my upper thigh. Assured it’s my cell phone, I dig in my pocket. But when I look at the screen, there’s nothing there. No number. No text.

I’m a tad embarrassed to admit this in such a public forum, but it’s true: I have Phantom Vibration Syndrome.

I know I shouldn’t be ashamed. It can happen to anyone. But I just feel like it’s my fault. I should have protected myself.

Now there’s no hope. Years of rapid, slave-like response to a small, vibrating electronic device has made my brain hyper-sensitive to vibratory stimuli. Eager for the psychological reward that accompanies receiving a text from a friend, the connections in my brain that interpret cell phone vibration have been enhanced to the point that they misinterpret and even generate their own signals.

I’ve been habituated. And the process was so gradual, so natural, that I didn’t even notice.

Psychologists say it takes just three weeks to form habits. And once they’re formed, they’re tough to break. In all honesty, we can get into some pretty bad stuff when we think of decisions as isolated instances and not habit-forming choices.

Or we can just end up with some really annoying physical side-effects.

Part of me wants to sue the cell phone manufacturers. Didn’t they know? They’ve made me this way, got me all paranoid and delusional. Who knows? In our litigation-ridden society, I might even win.

Another part feels like I’m in a bad, one-sided relationship. I’m just so dependent. I think about the vibrations all the time. I just can’t get them off my mind. I’d be crushed if I missed one – if I made the precious phone angry, causing it to blink and beep about a missed call.

And God forbid I ever turn it to silent. It’d be over. It would mean no communication at all. No vibrations. No notifications. I’d be all alone.

If you don’t have phantom vibrations yet, you’re lucky. It’s simply a matter of time. We are the cell phone generation, you know. There’s no escaping it.
If you are a present sufferer, know that you are not alone. You don’t have to be ashamed when you reach to your side to find nothing there. It happens to the best of us.

And if you are an enterprising Kelley student looking to add club-founder to a comprehensive resume, perhaps you could start a support group for those of us with “ringxiety” and “fauxcellarm.”

Because the first step is admitting you have a problem.