Technology Isn’t Out to Get You — But Maybe Your Feelings Are

The other night I found myself curled up on the couch with my tea going cold, one hand on my dog Susan’s fur, the other furiously scrolling through a comment section that, frankly, didn’t deserve my energy. I’ve also, full confession, once thrown a keyboard down the stairs because it wouldn’t do what I wanted. Dramatic? Maybe. True? Absolutely. It’s easy to think tech is the enemy — the phone, the keyboard, the endless feed that pulls us in. But here’s the bit I had to swallow (alongside my pride when I had to go fetch the broken keyboard): it’s not the machine’s fault.

Most of the time, that screen is just doing its job. It works with what it’s got — the operating system, the battery life, how old it is, how cheap it was when we bought it. If it’s running slow, that’s not personal. But my reaction? That’s entirely mine. The truth is, I wasn’t just angry at the tech. I was bored, or lonely, or frustrated because life felt expensive and unfair and a bit out of my control. The keyboard just copped the brunt of feelings I hadn’t regulated yet. Sometimes I wonder how many arguments, keyboard casualties, and pointless online spats could be avoided if we remembered this: the machine is not trying to ruin your day. It’s doing its best — are we?

When I see someone about to throw their phone, or when I catch myself about to launch into a comment war with a stranger, I try (try being the key word here) to pause. Take a breath. Remind myself: the feeling was not the tech’s fault. So maybe next time your screen freezes or your feed hooks you in, ask yourself — what am I really feeling right now? Is it boredom? Loneliness? Restlessness? Is there something else that needs your attention more than the comment section does? The thing about technology is, it’s not magic. It can’t regulate your feelings for you. That’s a job for us — for each other — for the part of us that remembers we’re human first, plugged in second.

So next time you find yourself ready to throw a keyboard down the stairs, maybe don’t. Maybe put the kettle on. Maybe pat the dog. And maybe remember the machine is just doing its job — the real work is ours. If any of this feels familiar, you’re not alone. Trust me — I’ve been there, keyboard fragments and all. And the good news? If it’s ours to feel, it’s ours to change.