Putting Down my Phone and Finding Myself
By: Beth Bruno
Tags: Mindfulness, Self, Life, iPhone, Life Lessons

Putting Down my Phone and Finding Myself

Happiness is In Real Life, not in my phone

If you are like me, your phone has become like a clingy lover, demanding your attention when you would rather be doing something else, following you around everywhere, keeping you from doing the things you used to love to do.

I still had that dinosaur of phones, a “flip-phone” until last December. One of the reasons I held out for so long was that I knew what would happen if I got one. I did not trust myself not to be like all the other people on the planet who have a phone permanently attached to them like an extra appendage.

I wanted nothing to do with the craziness I witnessed every day, of people not looking up when they are with others, tables of people at a restaurant, all on their phones. I would think, “Why not sit at home in the dark with your phone?”

But, inevitably, I finally succumbed (albeit years late) to the pull of the smart phone. I wanted to be able to get the pictures that our daughters send us of our granddaughters. A flip phone is not the tool for enjoying photos or videos.

Now, my fears have been realized. I am addicted. I reach for my phone many times a day. It kindly tells me how many times I reach for it, as though it is both the “addictor” and the chastiser. It tells me how many minutes I spend on social media, how many minutes I listen to Pandora, how long I talk on the phone or read the news.

And I am here to tell you — it’s a lot.

I am chagrined about my seeming addiction to this form of technology, but evidently I am not alone. I have read that the apps on our phones are designed with algorithms that are intended to be addictive — giving us a dopamine hit every time we interact. Basically, our phones are like slot machines.

I read an article by Catherine Price, who wrote the book “How to Break Up With Your Cell Phone.” Price quotes a statistic that the average person spends 4 hours a day with their phone. That is pretty consistent with my usage, and sometimes I use my phone more. When I amortize that out over a year, that is a little over 60 days a year. That is 2 months of my life on my phone. I can see that this relationship needs better boundaries.

On the morning I read her article, I decided to put my phone away for a whole day. I turned it off, slipped it into a kitchen drawer and went about my day. This is what I discovered.

That I have been doing things with only half of my attention. The other half has been on what’s happening on my phone. The day I put my phone away, I noticed a much purer form of attention as I changed the beds, cleaned my kitchen, chatted with my husband and sat with my coffee in the sun. I enjoyed doing things that I have not done in a while. I decided to listen to some of my favorite music the old-fashioned way — by playing some of my CD’s. I love my Pandora stations, and the ease with which I can create whatever mood I want, but I have been missing some of the music that connects me with a part of myself that I have neglected. I read an actual book. I have so many great books on my shelves, but I have not been reading regularly because I haven’t had the time. The time I would have been reading a book was spent reading disparate bits of “content” on my phone. Tons and tons of content. And every time I start reading on my phone, I look up an hour later and wonder what I just read. Reading a real book is a totally different experience, and one I have cheated myself out of. I remembered all the things I used to do before I had a smart phone. Before I had this phone, I spent a lot of time outside. I spent more time cleaning my house, caring for it in a way that makes it such a joy to be in. I had conversations that were not interrupted with dings and pings, making my mind wander off even if I don’t pick up the phone. I exercised more. I worked in my garden more. I read more. I lived my life more fully.

All of these revelations have led me re-think my relationship with my phone. By reconnecting with my authentic self — those parts that I have neglected or forgotten since I got this phone — I see that I want to control how it serves me, not the other way around.

I have set limits on my apps, now.

I have set my apps to lock me out from 7AM to Noon everyday. I have also set a time limit for my usage on those apps, so I don’t spiral into a dark hole and stay there, like I sometimes do.

I question my motives

I have started asking myself the question, “Is this how you want to spend your limited time?” Sometimes, the answer is yes. But I try to be mindful about why I am picking up my phone. Am I just bored? Am I trying to avoid doing something else? Am I attempting to numb my feelings? By asking these questions first, I am able to make a better decision.

My Lock-screen Makes me Pause

I have created a lock-screen with a picture of a beach sunrise, with the question, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (Mary Oliver) superimposed over it. It greets me when I pick up my phone. Do I really want to spend so much of this precious life on my phone?

By limiting my phone use, I have rediscovered things I once loved doing that I didn’t even realize I wasn’t doing anymore. I feel like I have come back to myself, after a long absence. This is a feeling that is way better than any I can get from picking up my phone.

I know I will always use my phone for the things that it is so good for. Communicating with my friends and family. Sharing photos. Listening to music. Checking the weather. But I am trying to create better boundaries so that I am not its slave.

I encourage you to experiment with putting your phone away for a day and see what happens. What parts of yourself will come back out of the dark once you give them the chance? I would love to hear your experiences.