It’s been a dream of mine to have a serious medical condition named after me. Paul’s Palsy, perhaps. Problem is, there’s nothing seriously wrong with me. Which means I have nothing to write about. Which means I do have a serious problem — coming up with regular blog updates and FaceBook posts.

Therein lies my condition, though I have altruistically decided not to name the affliction after myself. I’m overflowing with SUDS, short for Social Update DisorderS.

You probably know the feeling. It’s that subtle pressure and anxiety that comes when you neglect to call your mother every week or so. Or tweet or text every ten minutes. The pressure is ten times worse when you expect every missive to be enlightening or entertaining — not something so mundane as what you’re cooking for dinner or what book you’re reading.

SUDS have been around since the cave man days, but like so many other things, technology has amplified the problem. They feed off a constant human need to build and bolster the identity, thus validating the ego’s self worth and creating the illusion of happiness. The feeling is fleeting, however, unless one constantly feeds the fire and the FaceBook.

Technology also raises the bar in terms of expectations. Instead of just iconic personalities, social media exposes us to so many others ”just like us,” whom we naturally compare ourselves to — sometimes on a minute-by-minute basis.

It can drive you to SUDS.