What happened when I stopped reaching for my phone and started reaching for my life.
Last week, I wrote about resetting our nervous systems and our growing reliance on technology for little hits of dopamine. What surprised me was how many of you wrote back. Clearly, something about this conversation struck a nerve.
So I thought I’d share what happened when I actually put it into practice.
It’s been one week.
One week of using my phone as a tool instead of a way to escape boredom, fill silence, or stimulate my brain every time it wanted something to do.
And something rather wonderful is happening.
This morning, I was texting with a friend who mentioned that fall is her favorite season. As I was writing back, my fingers typed:
“There’s something I love in every season.”
I looked at those words and realized how deeply I meant them.
And then I wondered whether that little moment of appreciation was connected to the space I’ve been creating in my mind this past week.
Because I think it is.
I think we underestimate how quickly we can begin to change our habits, our attention, and perhaps even the way our nervous systems respond to the world around us.
For the past week, I haven’t used my phone for dopamine stimulation. Well, almost. I played my Numbers game twice. I’m human.
But otherwise, I used my phone when I actually needed it.
When I needed information, I looked something up.
When I needed an alarm clock, I used it.
When I needed a flashlight, “Siri, torch on!”
When I wanted to call someone, I called them.
And when I wanted to spend my Friday night texting Stacey about how desperately we need someone to draw us as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with her as the blueberry jam and me as the salted crunchy peanut butter, because that absolutely needs to be our team logo, I used it for that too. All while listening to long forgotten 80’s jams.
Because the goal was never to stop enjoying technology.
The goal was to stop letting technology decide where my attention goes.
And here’s where things got interesting.
Every morning this week, I sat with my coffee and my dog.
That’s it.
No scrolling. No checking. No finding something interesting to occupy my brain.
My phone was right there beside me, and there were moments when I practically broke into a sweat wanting to reach for it.
Instead, I pet my dog.
I drank my coffee.
I looked out the window.
And I let myself be there.
At first, it was uncomfortable. My brain wanted stimulation. It wanted something new. Something exciting. Something to respond to.
But slowly, I started noticing something else.
Space. And uninitiated deep breathing that just happened.
Space to think. Space to feel. Space to be creative and expansive. Space to appreciate things I hadn’t even realized I was rushing past. And space to just breathe.
And I wonder if that’s why I answered my friend the way I did this morning.
Because the truth is, there really is something to love in every season.
And perhaps there’s something to love in every moment, too.
Even the challenging ones, if we allow them to teach us something profound about ourselves and the world around us.
This morning, I feel almost overwhelmed with gratitude.
For the people in my life. The ones I’ve loved for years and the ones I’m only beginning to know.
For my husband. My dog. My home.
For the life we’ve created.
And, unexpectedly, for myself.
For giving myself the space to discover a little more peace, a little more presence, and a little more forgiveness that I didn’t even realize I needed.
All because I stopped filling every empty moment with something on a screen. All because a podcast really made sense.
Now, I’m not suggesting that everyone needs to throw away their phone and go live in the woods. Although, admittedly, that sounds pretty good sometimes.
I’m suggesting something much smaller.
Something you can actually try.
I started by putting my phone on airplane mode every night at 9 PM.
I removed social media from my phone.
I turned off notifications so nothing was pinging, buzzing, or demanding my attention.
I stopped allowing my emails to announce themselves every time they arrived at my digital front door.
And I started paying attention to the impulse to reach for my phone.
That’s really it.
If you’re curious, try it for a month.
Notice how often your hand reaches for your phone without you even thinking about it.
Notice how often you tap the screen to see whether someone has texted.
Notice what happens inside you when there’s nothing to look at, nothing to respond to, nothing to distract you.
And maybe ask yourself a few questions.
What is this pulling me away from?
What am I avoiding by keeping myself constantly entertained?
What might become available to me if I allowed a little more silence?
You don’t need to judge yourself for any of the answers.
You don’t need to make giant changes overnight.
You don’t even need to do any of this at all.
But if something inside you is curious about what life might feel like with a little less noise and a little more room to breathe, perhaps this is a lovely place to begin.
One morning. One cup of coffee (I am in no way advocating coffee drinking…insert beverage of your choice or not please). One moment of noticing the world around you instead of the world inside your phone.
Who knows what you might discover?
Maybe you’ll discover, as I did this morning, that there’s something to love in every season.
Including the one you’re in right now.