I have always considered myself pretty level-headed when it comes to technology. As someone who made the journey from analog to digital — a “digital migrant”, as I like to think of it — I believed I had successfully adapted to our connected world. I use apps for everything, trust cloud storage with my files, and have embraced the convenience of digital banking; I do not even drive my own car because why drive when I can easily get a car via an app? But a couple of nights ago, something happened that made me question just how ready I really am to hand over my life to the digital realm.

I lost access to my digital banking app a couple of days ago. While I am not one who gets rattled and nervous easily, the realization that I was not able to login with my ID and password to the digital banking app made me lose sleep. It made me think about what could have gone wrong with the bank and what could have gone wrong with my account. It caused me to spiral into some weird scenarios that I knew were irrational and unlikely, but still, resulted to me losing sleep and getting worked up. I even made a silent prayer that my access will be restored soon and that there was nothing significant wrong with my account. I also even went online to check in on social media chatter if I was not alone (it was quiet on X/Twitter). The next day, when I fired up the app, I breathed a big sigh of relief — one that was probably heard by my neighbors — because I was able to login. Immediately, I checked on my balances and the messages from the bank and everything was OK. After saying my thanks quietly in prayer, and breathing some more deep breaths, I started to reflect on my experience: Am I ready to truly give my life to digital apps?

The relief I felt when everything worked again the next morning was overwhelming, but it also opened up some uncomfortable questions. Here I was, dealing with a bank that had no physical branches, no humans I could easily call, and no prominently published customer service number. My hard-earned money and savings were essentially floating in a digital space that felt suddenly very fragile. It struck me that despite thinking I was “digital enough” to handle this arrangement, one small glitch had sent me into a tailspin of worry and prayer.

This experience has made me take a hard look at my relationship with digital services. I realized I might be more of a digital migrant than I thought– someone still carrying the anxieties of the analog world into digital spaces. The question that keeps coming back to me is: What am I truly willing to entrust to digital apps and the companies behind them without losing sleep? Where is the line between convenient digital living and reckless digital dependence?

I did not withdraw my money from my digital bank, but I did start thinking differently about balance. Maybe having all my eggs in the digital basket is not as smart as I thought. Maybe I need some brick-and-mortar backup, some human voices I can reach when things go wrong, some physical branch I can go to when something is awry. It is not about rejecting technology — it’s about being honest about the limits of my digital comfort zone. Sometimes the most important lessons come wrapped in a sleepless night and a sigh of relief that your neighbors can hear.

The truth is, I am probably not as digitalized as I believed. And maybe that is okay. Maybe wisdom lies not in complete digital immersion, but in finding the right balance between embracing innovation and maintaining some old-fashioned peace of mind.