A Digital Detox in the Modern Age
I broke up with my phone and we’ve never been happier.
‘I think my phone is trying to take me down’, I thought to myself, paranoid, as I laid sprawled out on the floor staring at its screen from across my room. We were just together a few minutes ago, why is it already luring me in for round two? It seductively waves me over, winking and stroking my ego with all the ways it can fill my boredom.
Phone’s are good at that, they fill in the blank spaces. They occupy the moments in your day when you’re thinking about what to do next or the moments when you’ve just finished a task. They entice you into a more romanticised world, where colours can be altered by brightness and filters are not only available on demand, but encouraged. A world of social media where you can pick and choose the parts of yourself you want to display. A world that is so beautifully fake, it’s shamelessly captivating. It’s sexy.
During lockdown, I tried on every distraction my phone had to offer me. My home was filled with loud echoes of fitness coaches disproportionately shouting out from my tiny screen, to baking an unreasonable amount of banana bread in every variation I was offered.
And look, before I know it, I’ve crawled along my bedroom floor and my phone is back safely lodged and imprinted back in its rightful spot, as I scroll through the thousands of ways to be the best at isolation and a 10 step Wikihow link on how to do a headstand.
Scroll, scroll, scroll.
I wonder what these Instagram models will look like without lip fillers and faded botox?
Scroll, scroll.
I should be writing an award winning screenplay.
Scroll, scroll, scroll.
Great, everyone on Instagram has already written a novel, screenplay and has a six pack.
Scroll.
How did everyone become Covid-19 experts all of the sudden?
Scroll. Scroll.
Oh, it’s getting dark again. I guess there’s always tomorrow.
Scroll.
And that was the precise light bulb moment that I realised I had to break up with my phone. The honeymoon phase was over and I knew in my heart we had to go our separate ways. So, in true extreme fashion I decided to turn my phone off for 10 days and embark on a digital detox. Relatively, this basically meant I was shaving my head and moving to India for 6 months to be a monk.
Working freelance at the moment, my digital detox didn’t need a huge amount of planning. Just a few emails and texts to good friends in case they thought I disowned them, and I was set.
It was actually quite a strange realisation being single and not having any compulsory ties of communication - why hadn’t I done this sooner? I’m at a point in my life where I don’t need to be connected all the time and that this expectation of always being available is hugely invasive. The time it takes to respond to a text has become such a huge part of our conditioning because it ultimately defines how rude we are. It has the power to show if you’re angry, playing hard to get it, not interested or any other passive aggressive game playing emotion as opposed to the one real option it should imply: that you just don’t want to reply right away. Why do we need trivial excuses instead of telling the truth? How have we managed to be so blindsided into being digitally co-dependent?
I wish I could say that I enjoyed the first few days without my phone and that it was plain sailing, but I totally lost my mind. My internal commentary had never been louder and I was mostly laid down horizontal listening to the various voices in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough. My hand subconsciously kept flinching to it’s long lost friend that used to reside in my back pocket to try and drown the voices out, but instead it was faced with more loud voices. It was as though I had a classroom of toddlers living in my mind all trying to speak to me at once. I’m still not entirely sure if this existential crisis came from breaking up with my phone or if it was just a strange coincidence, but the floodgates had well and truly opened.
Were these worries always lurking under my brain, patiently waiting for me to be done distracting myself so they could speak?
Perhaps.
Emotions I hadn’t heard from in years were resurfacing in my mind, people I hadn’t finished grieving and any certainty I had of myself suddenly felt threatened. I took a serious emotional bashing and found myself revaluating not only my path, but my whole identity.
So, I decided to listen. I sat up late and listened to every voice and every worry. I gave them each the same time frame to rant at me with all the power they had. I carefully wrote down their complaints and deliberated over the solution. I then went on to the next. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I cried. I got angry. I slept. I wrote some more. And somehow, I started to feel lighter.
I took my time rebuilding my routine and started to enjoy being present. I started doing the unheard of, walking without headphones. I enjoyed not having to report to anyone or glamorize the mundane into being something it wasn’t. It turns out, the mundane was quite exciting just as it was. I enjoyed taking my time to cook and make a mess, using every ingredient I could find. It even turned out edible.
It’s no surprise that I was far more focused with my work. I sat down to work and wasn’t looking for distraction because I didn’t have any available on demand. Usually sitting down to work comes with this nagging feeling like a little kid trying to fight sleep and stay awake as long as possible, but eventually having to give in. Well, I skipped that step and went straight to work.
In an attempt to not sound like too much of a cliché, I changed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going around yelling from rooftops that I’ve figured out how to hack life. But I do believe we need to rethink our relationships with our phone and how connected we are. Of course, the reality is that I’m not a monk, I don’t live in India and I do need a phone. I can’t logistically get rid of it forever, but since turning it back on, things have seriously changed. Firstly, we don’t sleep together anymore. It’s charger lives in the kitchen and that’s where it stays. I use a separate alarm clock and I don’t check it until I've showered and had my coffee. It also goes to sleep at least 5 hours earlier than I do. This is my non-negotiable and I can’t see this rule dwindling away anytime soon. I used to check my phone straight away when I woke up which meant my poor little brain was bombarded with unwarranted marketing messages, texting drama and emails before I was even properly awake. So my shower was spent worrying about all the things I’d just read, and before I knew it I was already on auto pilot slaving away to my phones every command.
I like not feeling the need to take a picture of what I eat before I eat it. I like not trying to fill every gap with unnecessary scrolling. I like the colours in the real world. I like not comparing myself to other people. I like caring less. And I actually like myself a bit more too.
Written by Jemma Amos
Jemma Amos is a 26 year old writer based in London who has always been fascinated by philosophy of the mind. She uses poetry and film to convey important messages about mental health or emotions that usually go unsaid. Fun fact, she sleeps with crystals under her pillow and hates matching socks.