Technology

Don’t Call Me Hypersensitive. A Mosquito That’s Not a Mosquito is Eating Us Alive.

Why you can keep your smart phones, smart homes, and 5G

A mosquito that’s not a mosquito buzzes in my left ear. Such a small sound. High pitched. Unseen. Unceasing.

Eating me alive.

Having no need for body and form, the mosquito that’s not a mosquito evades the waving of arms and swatting of hands. There’s nothing to swat. Just sound. Just too-close, too-much sound.

I place a thick quilt over my head in defence. I turn to lie on my left-side cheek.

The mosquito that’s not a mosquito persists there now, caught between linen and skin. Intimate. Urgent.

Or has it entered the ear itself? Lingering in labyrinthine corridors. Weighing whether skull spelunking is safe.

But no. This mosquito is not a mosquito. It has no shape.

Only sound. Only unseen, unwavering sound.

At last, I surrender. Naming what I already knew. Relinquishing hope of escape.

I press my ear to the mattress. I tell myself don’t resist.

Just sound. Just sound and a night that will pass. Just sound that will circle round again, into the birdsongs of dawn. Into a small clear line of stillness, rest, relief.

And it did.

But first, another test.

First, the vibrations.

Having yielded to the mosquito that’s not a mosquito — having faced the night knowing light would come — sound joined movement.

Movement shook body, bed, cabin.

Slight. Incessant. Everywhere.

Moving in time with the mosquito that’s not a mosquito. Moving in time with the hum of the mini fridge, the phone kept on airplane, the laptop dutifully unplugged, the heater turned way down.

Moving in time with the smoke alarm’s periodic flashing. With the square green lights from the outlet in the corner. Peering through dark. Refusing darkness.

The cabin shook. I shook.

Invisible waves pounding in time with the mosquito that’s not a mosquito. Pounding the shores of…everything.

This is technology for me, lately. A mosquito that’s not a mosquito. A metronome I can’t escape.

Buzzing. Vibrating. Invading.

Body, brain, being.

I thought leaving downtown for the forest would fix it. I thought cabin life would equal relief.

It does, mostly.

But also, my sensitivity heightened.

Please don’t tell me you’re an empath, HSP, or neurodivergent. Please don’t offer advice, a diagnosis, or list of letters of the moment.

If those work for you, have at it. Take what you need.

But also, I’m tired of human constructions. I’m tired of playing at solving the self with more noise and more letters and words.

Here, I want to posit another thing.

I want to propose that our souls and our being are not made for this.

For the incessant pounding of person-made lights and sounds and motions. For the mosquito that’s not a mosquito but is…everywhere.

No escape. No off-switch.

Just us. Caught in an onslaught we’re inflicting on others. Trees. Oceans. Skies. Beings.

The mosquito that’s not a mosquito. Too close. Unseen. Unceasing. Eating us alive.

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Thank you for reading. I’m a doctor of Chinese Medicine and write about sobriety and soulful living. Find all my links here: