6 months of no smartphone

6 months ago I wrote about taking an extended break from Facebook and trying to do better - with the bigger life problem: the distraction problem. Like working at the pizza shop and getting concerned about my all-pizza diet, I was bothered by how wrapped up in social media I felt. However, it's not just about one food. I found I had a habit of running to all kinds of distraction without thinking. At that point I had to admit, the biggest culprit was still attached to me: my smartphone.

I love the possibilities of new technology to improve our lives. But was this one right for me?

Forgetting not having one

Until I was halfway through high school, it wasn't a practical reality for everyone to have a phone on them. Even then, I didn't like the idea that I wouldn't get to choose when and where I was reachable and when I had "sacred" quiet time. I liked camping; at one point I'd learned orienteering (finding your way with a compass). It stuck with me how good it felt to take a walk and, sometimes, deliberately get lost.

But in the early 2000's, that became less and less possible. Over the course of 15 years through college and into adulthood, a small computer in my pocket became an ever-present part of my life. I traveled extensively for work into new states, I used GPS, music, searches for local food, churches, and more. I worked and took classes remotely, and had to connect from wherever I was. I organized big events, and tracked my plans. I got interested in marketing and technology, and generally existed as an extrovert, entangling myself in all sorts of smartphone conveniences and connections. I'd forgotten not having one.


I realized I wasn't happy with how things had evolved this year. I'd gotten over-saturated with social networks and entirely sick of dinging and beeping interruptions, not to mention disheartened by constantly checking the news. I was worried about what a kind of Wild West of digital social norms was doing, and I wanted to take some time to think about that. So I worked on setting myself some boundaries. I thought it would be hard but I could do it; I didn't really know what I was in for.

Setting boundaries

I'm a believer in the positive possibilities of the right technology to improve our lives. What usually trips us up, I think, is not thinking deliberately about it. We could set ourselves up better with good habits - like we do with personal diet and exercise; or we could create better societal rules for bigger deals - like we do with recycling, seatbelts, and FDA regulations. We haven't gotten very far regulating the digital world we live in, though I bet we will someday soon. So I gave myself a shot at making some personal changes. I set no-phone times and got an app for locking the screen on a timer. I talked to others in my life about when and how they could reach me, and tried to distance myself from "instant" messages unless urgent. I stopped using Facebook altogether for a while, and after deciding to open it again 6 months ago I widdled down the distracting features with tools like F.B. Purity and Social Fixer.

I still found myself with the nagging urge to break those self-imposed limits. It's normal - people have trouble with New Year's resolutions for a reason - but of course it's frustrating. Without thinking I'd catch myself on my phone, doing just one more thing, then another. I'd look up and see everyone on the bus, the sidewalk, in their cars, in the cafe, at the party, wrapped up in their phones - including me. It's not just something I came up with on a whim that smartphones are having a troubling effect on people's minds and emotions, often without us realizing it. Research is starting to show that nagging feeling things are too often out of balance may be rooted in something more serious.

Besides, the more I heard "How can anyone live without a smartphone!" the more I had the strong impulse to huck mine off a cliff.

So I did.

Cold turkey

I am stubborn; this is my work and my treasure. I decided half-measures weren't enough and sold my smartphone back. I'd quit Facebook for half a year, why not smartphones next? It felt good to call my own bluff.

A baffled phone store employee, practically having an existential crisis on my behalf, helped me switch to a 1990's era clamshell, a real brick that laughed in the face of the phrase "mobile optimized". The web browser was a broken time travel machine that could only see one page from 1992.  I'd text about half a sentence before giving up and making a phone call.

It was perfect.


I felt a bit curmudgeonly, and resolved myself I was OK with that. It seemed a fair exchange for leaving the "young" off of "young adult" as I am now firmly in my 30's. I couldn't GPS, I couldn't Uber. I asked people to call or visit in person instead of text long, confusing conversations. My coworker half-joked about whether I could function on a business trip.

Most people were tolerant about this whole life choice I was making, but one thing was pretty clear. This was different than just not liking Facebook. People who sadly nodded their heads and agreed they'd love to take a break too when I talked about quitting Facebook, now stared blankly at me or immediately swore they'd never leave their own smartphones. It was too important, too vital, too tied into everything they did and needed and enjoyed. Many people simultaneously said they had a problem - i.e. they admitted to breaking their own limits and not liking it, or not feeling like they could really stop themselves - and said it wasn't that bad.

I'd given myself no choice but to stick with it anyway, or else I don't know if I could disagree. I'd felt the exact same way.

I'm not a Luddite who wants to grab people's phones and smash them, but I think we could stand to question it when we feel cut off instead of connected, when we see everyone's looking down, all the time.

I live in a busy city, and I walk by an intersection every day where a woman my age was hit and killed in the crosswalk. I debate with myself how effective it would be to say to passersby, please look up. Please take care of yourself. They're usually just annoyed with me. I usually don't.

Why do this

Well, even if that weren't the case, even beyond my right to be an annoying stubborn old person if that's living the dream for me, I felt committed to the idea that we each have the right to determine our own quiet time. It resonated with high-school me, first resisting a cell phone because Edward Abbey said every free American has the right to get lost, sunburnt, and eaten by bears. We should be allowed, and able to stand firm to say "no" to things even if we feel pressured into them because of convenience, artificial urgency, or because everyone's doing it.

Over the spring and summer, into the fall, it's only recently I notice myself not craving to check my phone any more. It's taken, realistically, months for that to really change. I gradually remembered things I used to have to write down or check ahead of time, like bus times, phone numbers, what I was doing that afternoon. I could work to make club communications more widely accessible. I could get a work phone. But the real difference is more profound.

It feels like I'm starting to get my attention back. Not to be overly dramatic, but I force myself to do whatever I'm doing - ride the bus, look at the sunrise, notice people around me - instead of by default, thinking about my phone. Sure, I could do this before. People can and do set aside their smartphones, detox and unplug. People can use them as great aids, planners and communicators and organizers, then put them in a fixed place and set firm boundaries. Maybe I simply had trouble with this myself, and like anyone's personal health journey, with steps forward and back, you'll find differences and similarities to help you with your own. But there's something pretty important I was having trouble with when I had a smartphone on me. It was always there, even when I didn't want it to be. It always had a piece of my attention, and I could rarely give my whole attention, 100%, to anything else.

I was having trouble forgetting what it was like having one. I was, I'd say, unable to imagine living without one.

I don't think I'm going to get a smartphone again, not for a while. Maybe never. It's too valuable a thing to sit and think about sunrises and nothing else.

Emotional heavy-lifting, when it counts

This is an upsetting time in our country. I'm not gonna lie, when I'm upset, people tend to know it. I talk it out, I tell someone else to drive, I play the drums or use a punching bag, I cry at movies, I frequently give detailed feedback. I really don't like the idea that if someone gets hurt, such as on the scene of an emergency, crowds of people will often freeze or ignore it; in many real situations, no one steps forward to help. I never want that happen if I'm there, I want people to be moved to compassionate action if in small part because they knew me. If something unjust or hurtful happens, or someone's life could be made better and I might be able to do something, I don't shut up about it, I latch on to it, I get intensely focused on making it fair and right. Sometimes I make a whole damn career out of it.

So the news drives me crazy. And I want a break. But I have to wonder - is that a bad thing? Am I copping out of emotional heavy-lifting because I can? Am I privileged to wear my heart on my sleeve, speak my mind, and take a break from the hard stuff whenever I want?

To a certain degree, the answer is well - yes. Of course. Not everyone flips out when they see baby ducks. Not everyone can point out a problem and expect to be relatively safe, listened to, or protected. I get far more upset and blown over about racism, violence, and oppression than I have any right to be, considering how regretfully common they are in so many people's lives.

In a way, I've inherited an emotional vacation home by the luck of the social draw. I get (metaphorical) emotional PTO from life's hardest issues, I can afford to take a break from some of the hardest work there is in society, a benefit doled out by classes that would get an actual employer sued to hell and back. (Not for all. I don't get blissfully ignorant breaks from women's issues, or LGBT issues most of the time, but that class can be more invisible.) I'm in danger of taking it for granted that others will continue to shoulder hard emotional burdens for me so I can continue to avoid exercising those muscles - which is exactly what fragility means when people warn about it in the context of dealing with racism.

From another angle, on a more personal level, my emotions haven't always been honest with me. Sometimes I feel strongly like punching something. Sometimes I want to stay in bed for weeks. It's taken me a while, through teenagerdom and young adulthood, to fully realize my gut doesn't always know what's most important or what's a good idea. It's taken me that time to make friends with my emotions. Like friends I consider what they say - at the root of it they're trying to look out for me - but I don't take advice from them unquestioned. I know there's a difference between a thought, doing something therapeutic, and doing something strategic.

For a while - especially about "little things" - I would get upset at myself for getting upset. Unfortunately that's a vicious cycle. It just makes things worse to get frustrated about being frustrated. Nowadays I try to separate my emotions as things that happen, they can come up and pass by - apart from what I'm going to actually decide to do when I consider what's right, what's wrong and everything. I think about how it can be a good thing, and a helpful thing to have these reactions along for the ride with me.

It's good to be connected to the world through empathy. If I walk by someone in desperate need of help or someone shouting for joy and feel nothing, is that really better? Do I want to hear about hard problems and instead of instinctively wanting to solve them, distract myself with "the endless search for more and more refined gastronomic pleasures"? No. If I'm thinking about how I can give up a coffee this week and put another $5 towards a monthly gift to charity instead, that's a good thing. If I'm bothered by a racist joke because it immediately brings to mind how small things lead to big, harmful things, that's a spur to action I don't want to lose. My heart is a compassionate friend to have along with me. Getting uncomfortable when I'm reminded I could do more good is OK.

There are also some people who get really excited when they see a turtle. I'm one of those people. There are two sides to that coin and hopefully humanity is richer for it.

I also need to work on my emotional heavy-lifting. It's helpful to be reminded of that, too. If I need a break from the world because puppies are cute or news headlines are hard, I've stepped back from other responsibilities that I consider far more vital. That lump in my throat tells me where I can grow, where I can get stronger and be more present. It's a signal to me that while it's not useful being mad at myself for being where I am here and now, it's right to face a hard truth. I've been able to avoid a certain amount of exhausting emotional heavy-lifting that others have had no choice but to bear. There's a sensible, rational friend in me - a kind of friendly, hardworking coach - telling me having my emotions are OK, but there's work to do and I'm needed. If I can be more ready I can help more, and that's something I truly want. I feel like there are parallels to training in First Aid: I hate the sight of blood and I'd never be an ER doctor. I can avoid getting my hands dirty altogether and let someone else do it. But it's more important to me than maintaining my comfort to train to be ready to help someone, to be prepared with a certain amount of knowledge and willingness to step up readily when I see harm, and know how I can help. Whether I'm camping with a group of friends, in the office, or on the city street. I need to be prepared for the most important work when I am called upon as a citizen of the world, to be more than a helpless bystander. I am always called upon.

Both ideas lead me to the same conclusion: stay open, keep going, and do better.

Right now, in the middle of a very upsetting time in our country, it's easy to feel exhausted. It's a good idea to focus on tangible things we can do to make real change, near us and sooner, where we can see the affects. Build those muscles for longer and longer hauls. Get discouraged and get back up quicker. I'm as unlikely to become a grief counselor or a pastor as I am to become a firefighter or an ER doctor... Which is to say mostly unlikely. I have advocate talents and teacher talents, organizer and manager and artist talents and stickler-for-getting-it-right talents. I don't have many stoic talents, many shut-up or leave-it-be talents. Maybe that's OK; as the zen master said to his students, "you're all perfect exactly as you are and you could all use a little improvement."

Something in me is always reminding me I'm OK and I could grow. I'm working on my emotional heavy-lifting, to be there when it counts.

Politics & keeping your sanity

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, so before I get into anything else, this is always a good share: Ask Take This: how to support a friend with depression and more. (Thank you, Bill!) Mental health challenges come in a wide variety, and this is a great article on being a good friend no matter what someone is dealing with.

Second, last year about this time I started a pushup challenge for Mission 22 from a friend and started conversations about taking better care of our veterans. Still very relevant today. What I like best about this kind of challenge is (in addition to donating and working for better social services) raising awareness can help directly: the more people think about what they can do, and dispel the myths and stigma around mental health, the better we will tend to be toward each other. 

Which brings me to today's thoughts. This year I'm focusing on a hard lesson for me personally: staying engaged with civic dialogue and civic action in a healthy way.

How the heck do we even read the news and just take care of our mental health? Problems piling on from "staying engaged" can seem to strain our capacity for empathy, patience, and just dealing with difficulty. It feels like this year is particularly bad in the United States. Even if that were just the impression we were getting from TV, social media, and Thanksgiving dinner, we've still got some tough questions to face:

• How would we like to be treated by friends and family who disagree with us?
• How are we treating them? Is the Golden Rule enough?
• What would we like kids to learn to do to resolve differences, reach compromise - or react when things don't go smoothly, or they face intolerance and unfairness?
• What are we doing to take care of ourselves when things get to us?
• How do we keep from confusing venting (or "winning points") with trying to actually share understanding, improve our relationships, or build support for good ideas?
• How do we keep from shutting down when we're needed - by our friends, family, community, world?

I don't know how to say how urgent this all is to figure out, except this way: Politics is people - government is people. I can't imagine we'll get far without acknowledging that the whole thing and how the world works is tangled up with our day-to-day relationships, our day-to-day impulses, differences and how we deal with them, disappointments and wrongdoing and what it does to us.

If age-old aggression still finds a place to be nurtured in my own heart, how can joy and peace in this world ever be found?

I am working on remembering that I need to both take care of myself, and not shut down to the troubled world. Improving the system isn't a far-off concept, separate from us. It's the same as improving all these things that happen between me and other people. Both inching us towards a better society is needed - and also dealing sanely with inevitable human mistakes, wrongdoing, not living up to what we wish others to be and what we wish ourselves to be. Our processes, plans, rules and culture aren't separate from us and our messiness, The System was never some other entity. It's friends, families, strangers. Kids watching you.

It's you, and me, dealing with things that seem overwhelming, frustrating, never-ending - sometimes needing a break, or support, or forgiveness, or a change - and deciding to return and keep trying to do something good anyway.

I am working on upholding what I feel is most important (compassion for others, not letting frustration and anger consume me) and at the same time, fighting for what is right. On one hand, there's an impulse to be very righteously angry, and I feel that is understandable - hot things burn, injustice hurts. On the flip side, my guess would be, for someone to say "I don't care about politics" is a defensive impulse, when people are trying to protect themselves against this overwhelming feeling about what's going on by shutting off. Understandable as they may be, I think these extremes - getting addicted to anger, hardening, shutting off - would be a mistake. They would ultimately wear us down and cut us off from doing anything useful, or what may be more important, from living whole lives open to all the good we can do and see that's wrapped up with the experience of living, of relating to other people who are inherently imperfect. What can we do deal healthily, one step at a time, with both the wonders and the troubles of humanity? How do you take care of yourself, and get back up to keep going?

"We can help this troubled world. If these teachings make sense to us, can we commit to them? In these times, do we really have a choice?" - Pema Chodron