For the past few years, I’ve often felt like a slave to my inbox—hand wrapped around my phone, frantically trying to type fast enough to reply to replies. Ears plugged in, I record voice notes on the go, firing off messages, clearing emails, trying to stay ahead. Message after message, mail after mail, inbox anxiety builds up. And while it takes its toll on me (which is bad enough), perhaps what’s worse is how it shapes the way I communicate with others.
The screen stares back at me—a glowing divide between me and the person on the other side. A keyboard tap, a frozen smile emoji, a rushed response between meetings. Add to that the pace of modern life, where every message feels like a transaction, a request, an obligation.
“What’s in it for me?” becomes an underlying thought, even when I don’t want it to be.
But in person? I’m different.
I slow down.
I make eye contact.
I listen.
I notice when someone needs help, and I care deeply.
But online? I’ve noticed my attitude shifting.
Instead of valuing the conversation, I resent the ping of another incoming email. I feel overwhelmed by sorting messages, guilty when I leave something unread for more than a couple of days.
Tonight, as I sat down at midnight to clear my inbox, I realized something:
💭 I cared more about achieving inbox zero than about the actual connections I was making.
The empty inbox felt like mental quiet. A relief. A sign that I could finally move on. But at what cost? If each email is a task to complete, rather than a chance to truly connect, am I missing something?
A New Approach to Emails
Instead of diving straight into my inbox, I did something different.
I grabbed a blank A4 page and started to draw.
I doodled, something I’ve always loved to do.
I let my mind slow down and set an intention for how I wanted to connect with these people—not just reply to them.
And here’s what came from that moment:

Yes, there are a few mistakes—forgive my humanness.
But that’s the point. Behind every email, every message, every digital interaction, is a human being. Someone like you and me. Someone who wants to be seen, heard, and treated with kindness.
A Gentle Reminder
Next time you reply to an email, send a voice note, or type out a quick response, pause for a second.
– Remember the person on the other side.
– Be kind, be present, be human.
– Because a thoughtful reply can be more than just a message—it can be a moment of connection.
Let’s bring more of our real selves into how we communicate, online and offline.
With love,
~ Andy