Hello! I am taking my monthly device-free day and won’t be on email, social media, or even the phone. I’ll get back to you on Monday, hopefully with an even greater sense of equilibrium. If you must reach me, hubby has his phone. 614-555-5309.
IM ADDICTED
Hi. I’m Amy Kay Watson, and I’m addicted to electronics.
I really wish I could say it was a healthy, moderate relationship, but when I lie in bed past my bedtime swiping little images of teapots to trade them with little images of cookies, or can’t sleep without a podcast, or can’t sit at a traffic light without asking the font of all knowledge to chase down some piece of trivia? I’m addicted.
And most of the people I talk to have a similar experience. We all know we’re in an unhealthy relationship with these devices, but we’ve also built our worlds around them.
These devices serve as alarm clock, news and weather source, directions and road maps, calendar, communications, banking, work, play, personal development.
There’s an app for that. No kidding.
IT WAS A PROCESS
I was really fine with my relationship to electronics before. I remember telling someone that I just didn’t read paper books any more — that activity of running my eyes over words on a page? Seemed foreign.
I was fine with my electronics use, and I loved when phones got smart. It turned out that, once I could start downloading my choice of apps, the slippery slope had given way to a full-on mudslide.
It was only when I noticed that the images from my phone were hanging and dancing in my mind through the night, night after night, that I realized I had a problem. I started to hear about the ways our device-use and social media are changing our brains, and how important it is to take breaks and develop concentration.
Finally, I did a talk in 2018 that was completely inside my wheelhouse — and it was horrendously difficult to prepare, far worse than I’d ever experienced before. I came to the conclusion that my device use was turning my brain to spaghetti — just like Dad always claimed the television was going to do.
I decided to experiment with giving myself some device-free time periodically. I’d leave my phone in a different room, but then catch myself on the computer. I’d go outside but then find myself pulling out the phone.
Even if I swore off both the computer and the phone, I’d wind up watching television. This was proving to be difficult, and I needed something bigger — something that would be drastic, with clear boundaries.
I decided to try a device-free day.
In preparing for this day, I paid close attention to my habits and needs: when couldn’t I avoid devices without consequences (work days, for instance)? What kinds of devices was I using when?
I also wanted to be ready for the inevitable withdrawal and “oops” moments connected to actually needing the device for work or to follow through on a commitment. I printed out my calendar in advance, dug out some old reference books, and learned to communicate social plans well in advance.
My first device-free day was on March 18, 2018. I put a big reminder post-it on my computers, hid my phone, and made plans with my husband to go out for breakfast and read the newspaper.
In the afternoon I was going out of my skin with boredom, so we went to the library so I could get a book to read and checked it out by habit at the self-serve kiosk. When we stopped by the grocery store, it dawned on me that both at the library and at this store, I couldn’t do ‘self-serve’ without using a screen!
Already I was learning and practicing self-forgiveness for doing this imperfectly. I chose to come up with alternatives in future experiments.
Building on my experience each time I tried this, I decided to make this a monthly experience. Throughout 2018 and 2019, on the third Sunday of every month, I went device free.
I’m still doing it, though the particular date in the month may change from time to time.
MY RULES ARE ARBITRARY, BUT THEY’re STill rules
I decided early on to choose a historical marker to be my arbitrary line in the sand that would help me decide from moment to moment whether an activity would be “allowed” or not. I decided that the early-to-mid 20th century would be a good benchmark.
Such a selection would allow me to listen to an actual radio (in the car, for instance) but not a podcast. I could read a paper-based book but not an ebook. While these are arbitrary decisions in many ways, they also affect how our brains work and how we are rewarded by brain chemicals for our actions.
When I took a three-day device-free weekend, on the second day I experienced an incessant, blaring earworm. (You know those earworms — the ones that aren’t just some vague tune singing away in the background, but the kind that takes center stage in your mind. It demands your attention.) — At the end of the day, trying to get to sleep and still hearing this center-stage blaring earworm, I felt like I was going nuts. Finally I went out to the car and turned on the radio and listened to Bruce Springsteen singing “Pink Cadillac” until I could feel myself relaxing and going to sleep.
Why am I doing this to myself?
We have these weird conditions now. Fomo. Phantom vibration syndrome. Sleep texting. Problems with attention span, sleep, and depression. A much better question is why WOULDN’T I try to take at least occasional steps to lessen the hold tech has on me?
More and more science is coming out revealing how we are becoming addicted to technology, meaning that our brains respond to these technological experiences with the same chemicals that respond to substances we’ve long understood as addictive. This project is therefore a literal detox for an addicted brain.
Notice the lie: “Pics or it didn’t happen.” This idea originally came about because people were pretending to be far more impressive online than they could be in real life, so their readers started demanding photographic evidence.
We have started to believe that if we aren’t sharing photographic evidence of our lives, then our lives aren’t as real as they would be if we simply experienced them. This is a lie, but we act as if it’s true.
“There used to be a developmental stage in life, usually sometime in our thirties, when we shifted our focus from the outside to the inside. That is, we stopped defining ourselves by what others thought of us and became more interested in what we thought of ourselves and the world. This stage could be called “growing up.” It seems that this stage of life is now disappearing for many of us. Now, the question “Do I like myself?” has been replaced by Am I liked?” – Nancy Colier, The Power of Off
Living without the app-assisted life
One of my first surprises was that I hadn’t planned for the lack of an alarm clock, and since hubby and I wanted to go have breakfast in a place where I could read the paper before we went to church, it made for more of a rushed feeling at home than we would have preferred. (I have a vintage alarm clock on my app-assisted wish list, but hubby is setting his alarm for us in the meantime.)
I have mourned the loss of e-tracking. It’s nice to have an app to prompt me with feedback: “Hey, you got a full eight hours of sleep! Awesome!’ or “Dude, no wonder you’re tired. You got like 6 hours of sleep!” or “HEY, potato butt! Go for a walk!” or “W00t you kicked a$$ today!”
But, I’ve decided that missing some data is fine. I can actually live with that. I can practice giving myself credit for what I do. I can practice just noticing my general activity level. I don’t have to depend on apps and devices for everything.
It turns out that one of my most important coping mechanisms is reference books. I have become so dependent on the internet to answer questions for me. What kind of bird just crashed into my window? Do I actually mean ‘dour’ when I say it? Who is a Met VIP with a four letter name?
I’ve learned to keep a few reference books on hand. I have a bird identification book, a couple of one-volume encyclopedias that can be ignored safely the rest of the month but become precious during my one day of device freedom. Dictionaries on paper and old paper diaries are so useful.
For emails I turn on my vacation responder. I don’t bother with changing the outgoing voicemail. Should I? I doubt it.
I do need to text people before I “go dark” and let them know they won’t be able to reach me electronically on that day. That is a recent realization.
Emergencies
Usually when people hear that I’m going device-free, they respond with longing and vicarious relief. We know that our devices are screwing us up on some level. However, occasionally I’ll get questions about emergencies.
Fortunately I’m not in a role where the emergencies of many people have much of an effect on me. I am a coach and a trainer, not a manager or executive. I have pets but no children. My parents have already passed away.
Still, however, it is possible that someone might try desperately to reach me on the day I can’t be reached directly. For them, I leave my Gmail vacation responder on with Hubby’s phone number, and Hubby does carry his phone on my device-free days. I’ve never been contacted through him.
Is this a practice you’d like to adopt? whatever you do, I encourage you to step into it with an experimental attitude. The first time you try it, just see how long you can hold out, and what breaks the streak for you.
If you’re interested in exploring how coaching might support you in achieving your goals, you can start a no-risk conversation with me. I look forward to hearing what you have to say.
