I love my phone. It goes beyond just texting and connecting with the world, though. I can use my phone to avoid talking to people in the halls, or as a way to make myself look busy and engaged in something needing my full attention. I can use it as a fidget, tapping and swiping randomly to my heart’s content.
A few weeks ago, as I was using my phone, I randomly thought about what the phone was really made for. In 2007, when the first iPhone came out, it seemed revolutionary. And it was. Never before had humans been able to communicate using their thumbs. Never before had humans been able to access the world’s information from their pockets.
But what has ensued since the smartphone’s release is a declining cycle of personal interaction; slowly, people have put more and more of their lives into their phones. Phones were never intended to be used as ways to avoid talking with people in person, or to pretend like you’re doing something important. But, that’s what they’ve become.
I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if I went phoneless for one week. After letting my battery die and shutting off my phone, I embarked on this challenge with little to no preparation. The challenge went beyond just my phone. On any of my devices, I blocked all social media apps and websites including YouTube and Netflix. My only method of communication was through texting on my laptop or FaceTiming people.
With that, the challenge began.
The big difficulties were evident from the beginning—like no media consumption—but the hardest part was getting over all the minor inconveniences. As I went to bed after shutting my phone off at night, I realized that I didn’t own an alarm clock to wake up. I had been relying on my phone to do that for years.
The next morning, after getting ready and about to head out for the day, I wasn’t sure if I needed a jacket or not. My laptop was packed, so it would be inconvenient to take it out and check the weather, so I stood by my door for about thirty seconds just thinking about what I could do to see if I needed a jacket.
After painstaking deliberation, I remembered that I could simply go outside to see if it was cold
After painstaking deliberation, I remembered that I could simply go outside to see if it was cold.
Throughout the first day, I found myself constantly making these silly realizations of how to do basic things without my phone. Things like listening to music in the car—which I could just do through the radio—put into perspective just how much I had forgotten to do things without my phone.
A few hours later in school, I suddenly got my first real craving for my phone. I kept reaching for my pocket every few minutes, hoping it would be there. On my computer, I would try searching up YouTube or Instagram without even thinking about what I was typing, like it was ingrained into my muscle memory to go to these websites when I’d lost attention in the task at hand. It’s difficult to describe the feeling, but it was like I needed to consume some form of media to make the jittering go away. Funnily enough, I opened up The New York Times and read a few articles, which satiated that first craving.
Making it through the rest of the school day was tough, but coming home was even harder. I didn’t really have anything to do other than my homework. Instead of putting it off for a couple of hours, I started working on it right away, since I genuinely had nothing else to do. I finished much earlier than ever before this year. The extra time felt refreshing, and I could finally catch up on other things like college essays, independent projects, and just have time to myself to relax and think. I could sleep at a better time, ensuring at least eight hours of sleep, which hadn’t been a norm for me since freshman year.
As the next few days went by, I felt like I needed my phone and access to media in general less frequently, and any need decreased each day. I noticed how I felt more engaged in the things I did and stopped thinking about who just texted or snapped me or who might have just posted something interesting on their story. The only people I could talk to and whose lives I had “access” to were my classmates, friends, and family, and I found myself engaging more with them without the distractions that came with having instant access to the lives of people I might have never even met before.
While less connection was mostly a good thing, it also left me feeling like I was missing out on important moments.
Despite feeling countless benefits, there was one immediate and irrefutable downside to it all: I didn’t feel as connected. While less connection was mostly a good thing, it also left me feeling like I was missing out on important moments. There are so many group chats in places like Snapchat, where I just wouldn’t get that information promptly because I didn’t have my phone. When my classmates’ college decisions were starting to roll out, I would have to find out through word of mouth, which made me feel less connected to the joy of those moments. The fear of missing out seems like an unwelcome but unavoidable thought in the back of your mind when trying to go without your phone.
Coming up on the end of this challenge, I’m left with a lot to think about. This week has genuinely been one of the happiest of my life, and I’ve felt a noticeable change in my mental clarity and overall level of happiness. However, the lingering fear of missing moments from the outside world, whether it be things with my friends or even just people on social media, is strong. I haven’t been able to overcome it yet.
Going phoneless isn’t just about disconnecting from technology; it’s about re-establishing connections with yourself and the immediate world.
Nevertheless, I encourage everyone to attempt this experience. Going phoneless isn’t just about disconnecting from technology; it’s about re-establishing connections with yourself and the immediate world. It tests willpower and unveils the potential for personal growth amid digital dependency.
In a world inundated with notifications, maybe the occasional silence is what we truly need to hear our own thoughts and engage more deeply with the tangible moments that surround us.