why do I need constant reassurance

I was at work, my phone sitting face-up on the desk, and I couldn’t stop checking it. Every few minutes, I’d unlock the screen and scan for a reply that wasn’t there. I’d had a heavy conversation with someone, and now I was waiting. The longer the silence stretched, the more impossible it became to focus on anything else. It was as if time itself slowed down, each moment measured by the absence of a message.

For the first couple of hours, I could keep it together. I’d developed some strategies over the years—muting notifications, trying to distract myself with other things. But once enough time passed, the anxiety started to build. Every minute added to the feeling until it was overwhelming. I’d start to get angry, imagining the person was doing this to me on purpose, even though I knew I couldn’t be sure of their reasons. Sometimes I pictured sending a message to cut them off completely, just to stop the feeling of being left in suspense.

When the reply finally came, I barely registered the words. The relief and exhaustion were so strong that the content of the message hardly mattered anymore, even if it was something important.

I held off on getting a smartphone until 2016, long after most people I knew had one. I always suspected it would make this kind of thing worse for me, and it did. I set up all sorts of traps to keep myself from falling into endless scrolling—no social media, no games. But none of it helped with the waiting. The problem wasn’t the content; it was the awareness that I could check for a message at any moment, and the urge to check was unstoppable.

Yesterday, my phone died while I was out for six hours. For the first time in days, I was free from the cycle. I couldn’t check if there was a message, so I stopped thinking about it. The peace was immediate and surprising. It was only then that I realized how constant my anxiety had been.

Turning off my phone isn’t really an option—I use it for podcasts while doing chores, for alarms and timers, and I read on it before bed. Besides, it’s easy to turn it back on, and I know I would.

Muting the person helps a little, since I won’t get notifications, but it doesn’t stop me from going into my messages and checking. If I’m anxious, I’ll just keep looking anyway. Blocking them doesn’t work either; I still want to see their replies, and blocking means I’d miss them.

Now I’m thinking about trying something else: using a second phone with no service for podcasts, alarms, and reading, so I can turn off my main phone and put it away when I’m home. The idea feels promising, maybe even exciting. It might let me disconnect from the waiting without giving up everything else I use my phone for.

I haven’t tried it yet. I’m asking around to see if others have dealt with this and what worked for them. I don’t know if it will work for me, or what will happen if I try. But after those six hours of peace, I know what it’s like not to be trapped by the waiting, and I want to find a way back to that.