Quitting Your Phone is Actually Simple

but not necessarily easy

Four weeks ago I reached rock bottom in my phone addiction.

I felt physically ill. I was full of grief, despair, and disgust.

It was negatively impacting my relationships, including the all-important relationship with myself.

Like so many of us, I used it as an escape from feeling what was alive in me.

I used it to distract myself from unpleasant sensations and avoid being present in my life.

I used it when I was alone with my kids. A lot. Because I felt bored or overwhelmed, and also because I was in a loop.

The loop so many of us are in, I would reach for my phone completely out of habit or engrained behavior, not because I had a conscious thought or reason to.

Miguel Porlan

I’ve tried to quit my phone before. I deleted all the apps so there wouldn’t be anything interesting to do. I thought it would be an easy fix.

But it wasn’t.

I was so excruciatingly bored.

Looking for dopamine, I would open my phone even though there was nothing to do on it.

Eventually I found myself reading through old text conversations on Whatsapp.

It’s only a few slippery steps from there to opening social media apps on the web browser with the excuse that it’s not as tempting as the app. Within a few days the apps are re-installed.

Four weeks ago I decided enough is enough. I don’t like living this way. I actually hate it. I don’t like feeling this way. I actually hate it.

As if the Universe heard me, my five-year-old phone stopped working properly the next day. An opportunity.

I started by doing some research.

I read a lot. I found this post by Kaitlyn Elizabeth to be particularly helpful.

At first, I was enamored by the minimalist phones. After a bit of digging, I realized they might be an overpriced gimmick.

I also realized that there are certain aspects of smartphone technology that I am actually not interested in living without.

So I came up with a list of needs, things I want my phone to provide me. This was a helpful exercise because it already got me into the path of thinking of my phone as a tool.

What do I want this tool to do?

Calls & texts

Internet messaging (Whatsapp & Telegram)

Navigation

Music & Podcasts (Spotify)

Calendar & reminders

Camera

Translator

For a few days I was sure I would buy the JellyStar by Unihertz. If you haven’t seen this adorable little nugget, it is the smallest android smart phone on the market.

on dumbwireless

I really like the idea of a small phone. I think if it can fit easily in my pocket, if I don’t have to carry it all around the house in my hand, I can forget about it more easily.

I also thought it would probably be much less fun and therefore tempting to do stuff on a small screen.

Unfortunately, there were a few hurdles with this phone that I couldn’t overcome in my mind.

1. It was created by a small development team and they are unable to guarantee operating system or security updates. I don’t want to spend the money on it and then not be able to use it in a few years.

2. I was worried that once I got over my addiction and into right relationship with my phone, it would be annoying that the keyboard is too small to type on and the map too small to comfortably navigate from.

In the end, I settled on the smallest Android Galaxy phone I could find, the A25.

I ordered it.

When I got the text that it had arrived, my husband asked excitedly, “Are you gonna go get it? Are you gonna go get it?”

No, I said. I’ll get it tomorrow. And I don’t want to feel excited about it. It’s not a new toy.

I was hellbent on starting this relationship in a new way.

I picked up the phone and then left it in the box for another two days, waiting for the very plain and unexciting case that I ordered.

I finally opened it and started setting it up. I tried so hard not to get sucked in, but I had to use it for a while to set everything up and disable notifications. I definitely felt the pull of a shiny new toy.

But I had my defenses ready.

I deleted all of the apps except for the ones on my phone-as-tool list. No social media, no substack app, no YouTube or Amazon Prime, nothing but the essentials.

I turned off all notifications except for messages, calls, reminders and calendar alerts.

I turned the phone to greyscale and installed the Before Launcher.

Guys, making your phone black and white is a gamechanger.

With the flick of a button, the phone becomes uninteresting. Literally not appealing.

Bonus points: all photos of your silly kids look artsy and adorable.

And the Before Launcher, if you’ve never heard of it, is a must-have in my opinion. Instead of cute icons designed to get your attention, your apps are listed in alphabetical order by name. Very tool-like.

from Android Authority

And I bought a watch.

I was blown away by the immediate change in both my feelings about my phone and my behavior.

During that first week or two, I almost couldn’t make myself look at it.

I left it in the other room.

I left it in the car when I went to the playground with my daughters by accident. Do you know what that means? I was so unaware of it, I was not looking at it all the damn time, that I just forgot it. And I didn’t go back to get it.

I think what’s happening is that by making the phone a boring tool, I interrupted the unconscious, habit- and addiction-driven phone use.

I inserted a split second of awareness into my relationship with my phone.

Instead of immediately grabbing it and opening the screen, I was able to notice when I felt the impulse to grab it.

And when you notice, you can choose.

When you notice, you can ask yourself, what am I really needing now? Is my phone the best way to meet that need?

Spoiler: I’ve found that 9 out of 10 times, it’s not.

Here are the most common times I wanted to reach for my phone:

• After a tense moment with my kids or husband

• After playing the same game or reading the same book for 20 minutes with my kids

• When my youngest asked to nurse. This one was fascinating. I noticed that every time she asked for milk, I felt a little hit of excitement. It was like my brain knew: phone time!

• From 6pm until bedtime, also known as the witching hour, almost non-stop.

At the beginning, I found myself reaching for a snack or a piece of chocolate in the same moments I would have reached for my phone.

Same thing, different drug.

I gave myself grace and compassion in those moments. I’d say, “Of course you are looking for comfort and dopamine. It’s okay, just notice it.” Within a few days of noticing, I was able to do something else.

If we go back to the list above:

• After a tense moment, I shake my body or do connected breathing for a few minutes. I feel the hard things. I yawn and yawn, tension releasing. The amount of time I spend dysregulated has shrunk considerably.

• I notice that I’m getting bored and annoyed at playing the same game over and over again with my kids and either step away for a break, or suggest doing something else.

• When my toddler breastfeeds, I look out the window at the trees. Or I watch my eldest playing on the floor next to us. I have had so many moments of overwhelming gratitude and happy tears simply because of the delight that is my life.

• The witching hour is still a bitch. I just get through it.

It feels like I am finally able to implement all of the tools that I’ve practiced over the last three or so years.

I’ve learned about nervous system regulation, I know what helps, but I could never actually do it.

And I am starting to think that my relationship with my phone was the thing standing in my way.

That might sound extreme but I don’t know how else to account for the fact that now, when I see myself approaching shit-losing territory, I place a hand on my chest and breathe.

The idea of that isn’t new. The implementation is. And the only thing I’ve changed is that I’m not on my phone all day anymore.

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Disaster struck when I misplaced my Kindle. I was deeeeeep in a book obsession so I opened Libby on my phone to read at night. But then I found myself opening my phone at other times. Just to… just to what?

I opened a web browser and started searching for whatever came to my mind at any given moment. Did you know that you don’t actually have to know everything you think about knowing, the moment you think about it? We are so used to just Googling it. But I’ve learned that 95% of those things are inconsequential. I forget them within hours of googling them. I didn’t really need to know.

But the habit is deeply engrained.

Thankfully I found my Kindle a day later and closed the browser.

But for that day of Googling, I noticed a marked difference in my mood.

I was anxious, impatient, irritable, and annoyed at my kids simply for existing and “interrupting” me.

That’s one of the biggest things I realized about the relationship I had with my phone. When I was in the loop, other things, real life, felt like an interruption. And an interruption, especially to neurodivergent people, is irritating. Sometimes infuriating.

Untangled from the loop, I no longer spend the whole day feeling like my kids, or life in general, is interrupting.

And that’s the biggest gift of this whole thing. I honestly feel like I’ve gotten my life back, or maybe it’s that I’ve gotten back the privilege of enjoying my life. The one unfolding before my very eyes.

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I don’t have much to look at on my phone anymore, but I still use sites like Substack on my laptop. For me, it’s impossible to doomscroll on the computer. It just doesn’t scratch the itch like when you’re lying on the couch, phone in hand, rotting.

There’s a lot of advice out there to not look at your phone in the morning. That putting it off until after breakfast, or after your morning workout and shower, or after whatever landmark, will cure your phone addiction.

I’ve actually found that for me this makes things worse.

I am constantly in a conversation with myself like “when am I going to look?” “how much longer until I check?” and then I am spending all my time thinking about my phone, which is exactly what I’m trying not to do.

If I check everything once in the morning, I can relax and put it away. I can stop thinking about it.

So after getting my daughters set up with breakfast I check my whatsapp messages on my phone (I live abroad so messages from friends and family come in overnight), I check Substack for five or ten minutes on my laptop and any interesting emails, and then I put it all away until I start work, usually after lunch.

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There are obviously “sacrifices” that come with not being connected on my phone. I post to Substack notes and reply to others less, and I feel less connected and in-touch with the community here. I can see that it also impacts my favor with the algorithm.

I sometimes miss messages that would have been nice to know had come in immediately, like my husband asking if I need something from the store. I’ve asked him to call instead; I’m more likely to hear the ring than the message notification when the phone is in the other room.

I’ve missed out on snapping photos of things I am sure I’d be happy to have a memento of down the line.

I also rely heavily on reminders and calendar notifications because I have ADHD and even the most important appointment can vanish into the fog in my brain. I used to write down ideas and reminders in my phone, but every time I’d write down an interesting idea I would also open two or three other apps. Once the phone is in your hand, it’s hard to put it down.

With my phone sitting on the other side of the house, this aspect is still unresolved for me.

I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a smart watch which I know sounds ironic; getting more tech in order to use less tech. But I wonder if knowing when I’ve gotten a message or a reminder without needing to go check my phone periodically might actually be helpful.

I tried using a pad of paper and a pen to write down ideas or things I wanted to remember, but I would either forget to look at it or forget where I put it. Many ideas have evaporated, never to be heard from again, in the past month. I don’t love that, but I like it more than I like being a phone zombie.

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I titled this piece saying that quitting your phone is simple. I surprised myself when I typed it; in the past, quitting my phone has been excruciatingly hard.

I think what I’ve learned this time is that it’s simple, meaning it isn’t complicated.

Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s easy, though this time it has largely felt that way.

There seem be two crucial elements, in my experience:

1. You have to want it.

   You have to want it more than you want other things, like being connected all the time, staying ahead of the algorithm, or capturing every cute moment of your kids.

2. You have to have the capacity and the willingness to do the work of being with the uncomfortable moments when you would otherwise reach for your phone.

   Maybe I didn’t have the capacity for this in the past. And that’s okay. We are only ready for what we are ready for.

This time, I really, really, really wanted it. I made my phone boring. I had come to a place of capacity and deep desire to do the work; I noticed when I wanted to escape into my phone and tended to myself instead. And the verdict? It’s better than I ever imagined.