I’ve been thinking a lot lately about priorities. Specifically, how we choose to spend our time, our money, and our energy. Moreover, how we IMAGINE we’re spending those intangible assets. (I had some free time and might have been overthinking.)

Recently, I traveled to Cancun on a spring break adventure only to discover, on my way to the airport, that I had left my phone at home. Yikes. I quickly assessed that going into panic mode wasn’t going to be helpful, and I was traveling with three other people that had phones. So, I embraced being tech free for 5 days: I told my husband he wasn’t going to hear from me much, I bought a paper book at the airport, and I gave myself grace to miss the deadlines I’d set for working while I was away.

It could have been disastrous…and it wasn’t. Instead, it was a detox, a mental shift, and a much-needed break from the speed of life. In the U.S., our economic structure is setup to take from you. Companies want your money, content creators want your attention, and peers/friends/family want your energy. For the first time in ages, I had a digital-free boundary from the vampires I’d let within my walls…and I ended up with so much more for myself!

I mean look at this…

In escaping to paradise, I realized my perspective was broken. What I thought was “a quick peek online” was a lot of time, an occasional email check-in was happening too frequently, and innocent distractions were significantly impacting my attention and interest levels. I can’t say I returned home a changed person, but I did pick up my phone with a new perspective.

Technology is a lifeline to society—but it’s also a distraction. It’s a powerful tool for instant access to resources and knowledge, but, just as often, it’s a tempting escape. Phones are fast food for the brain: a quick bite of entertainment, retail therapy, or information.

At a recent writing conference, I had the chance to spend an evening with Mary Wine. She shared a thought that stuck with me, she said, “You’re either a creator or a consumer.”

It made me pause.

I’m a writer. I tell stories. But am I actually making time to write them—or am I on the sidelines, watching everyone else tell theirs? Heading into June, I’m holding onto a new mental model: Am I growing and creating, or am I staying small and consuming?

I’m lucky enough to work with artists every day who model this way of thinking. I get to watch people shape their own stories and shepard them into the world. What I’m seeing reinforces my motto, “Everyone has a story.“

What do you want yours to be?

To the awe and wonder of seeing our path to discovery,