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 frustrating. The clunky flip phone took three times longer to do anything — from texting to adding a contact. Forget trying to sync a calendar.
Two weeks in, the flip phone broke, and I sent it back. But what I learned in those two weeks was most of the features that previously seemed so essential actually weren’t.
I could in fact get around town without directions. I didn’t need to be able to Google anything that popped into my head. And I could even walk into a grocery store and talk to an employee in person if there was a problem with my grocery pickup order.
So, I converted my smartphone into a dumbphone. That way, I could have the smartphone’s good camera and a properly syncing digital calendar without all the other distractions that took so much of my life.
First, I deleted nearly every app except the ones that came with my phone. I kept certain apps — camera, maps, calendar, podcasts, calculator, notes, weather, clock, email, music, phone and messages — on my home screen. This may sound like a lot, but my screen is only a third full.
I also kept a selection of other apps that I regularly use. (They’re just not on the home screen.) My child care app, a few apps for work, my audiobooks app and that parking app that I just can’t shake.
Then, I hid my internet browser. This was critical because a browser is essentially millions of apps in one. I could watch videos. I could check my email. I could shop online. I could search for anything I wanted. For a person who is easily distracted, the browser was a constant temptation. Sadly, my phone won’t allow me to delete my browser completely. So, hiding it was the best option.
Finally, I took the photos off my home and lock screens and converted the entire phone to grayscale. Yes, if you send me a photo or an ad, I will only see it in black and white.
Six months in, this is still my system. Is it perfect? No. Do I sometimes feel pressured to add an app? Yes. Do I always end up deleting it because I realize it’s useless? Also yes.
In the past six months, my phone usage has dropped from six hours per day to one. It’s lower on the weekends when I’m not using my phone for work.
As a mom of three young kids, these are precious hours that I now have back with my family.
I won’t lie to you. My life hasn’t completely changed. I still must consciously choose to be present with people. But that’s a lot easier for me without a fully tricked out smartphone.
I’ve read more books in the past six months than I have in the past decade. I’ve intentionally reached out to friends to chat and get together. And I’ve been brave in social situations.
It’s a start. Now I just need to get everyone else around me to put their phones away so I’ll have someone to talk to.
