I got my first smartphone when I was 18. For the nearly two decades since, I’ve hardly put it down. That was until January of this year, when I estimated the hours of my life that I’d spent on my phone instead of participating in hobbies or spending time with people I love.
That number — 36,720. That’s about four years. Yep.
YEARS! As someone who struggles with social anxiety, my smartphone became a crutch. My friends in college joked that I was always on my phone when we were eating dinner. My now-husband came back to the table on our first date and made fun of me for checking my social media while he was in the bathroom.
When I walked into any kind of social event, I’d suffer through maybe five minutes of tightness in my chest before grabbing my phone so I could be present but not have to actually talk to anyone. I’m embarrassed to say this is still a struggle for me. But my phone was more than a social crutch.
It held my calendar, music, podcasts, driving directions, audiobooks and so many apps, each of which seemed essential. Every facet of my life seemed to involve an app. I used them for work, connecting with child care providers, making doctor’s appointments, keeping tabs on my kids’ sports clubs, paying for parking, shopping for groceries, even praying.
In January, however, I took the plunge and decided to ditch all the apps and my smartphone in favor of a flip phone. As an experiment, my $100 dumbphone was a failure. The technology itself was frustrat.