My inbox keeps warning me that my storage is near its limit. Of course, Google would prefer I throw some money at the problem. “Just pay us $30/year, and we’ll give you more digital space!” I usually react by relentlessly deleting old files, but here, I’m tempted—because email is different.
My emails go back all the way to 2008. I just found the first digital product I ever bought. A typical get-rich-quick scheme for a few bucks, back in 2010. Now, I can write about the experience. If I delete the confirmation email, I can’t do that anymore, can I? I’ll never stumble into it again, let alone find it on purpose.
Sure, my inbox has lots and lots of irrelevant emails. Notifications. Updates from groups I’m no longer a part of. One-liners, saying, “Okay,” “Confirmed,” or “FYI.” But it also contains precious memories, personal conversations with friends, travel plans, and more. I find my inbox hosts a special kind of memorabilia: Stuff that’s personal but usually not too intimate, interesting but not critical. Take it all together, however, and you’d be throwing away a big chunk of your life.
What about my first business records as a self-employed person? What if I need to prove in court at some point that I sent this email or that one, that I had certain documents, or that I bought a product when I say I bought it? Maybe one day, my emails can offer me legal protection.
Your inbox sure is a mess. It’s full of irrelevant data. Sometimes, it’s even a crowdsourced to-do list made for you by other people, a to-do list you’ll still have to get through. But in a way, your inbox is also the ultimate insurance policy: It’s filled with creativity, memories, and proof.
Will I cough up the money to keep my emails around? I don’t know. But I do realize my inbox, for all its wear and tear, is still a treasure chest—and that might be worth preserving.