8 days in this tiny but mighty life of mine

As a (kind of) recovering phone addict

Day 1

Two days ago, I had a horrible encounter (a fight in the street) with a racist man who is, much to my convenience, my next-door neighbor’s father-in-law. The old man yelled at me truly awful things, so after a light cry and exchanging two passive-aggressive text messages with my neighbor (whose father-in-law I had just had the pleasure to meet), I did what most humans nowadays do to cope. I reached for my phone and embarked on a classic TikTok infinite scroll. It worked. I felt relieved after the thousand 20-second videos covering all of my interests (books, sourdough bread, stationery items, updates on the genocide unfolding before our eyes, quick dinner recipe ideas, and people living what it looks like a happier life in Scandinavia). Once all of these had penetrated the barrier of my anxiety, I felt better. But it is a particular kind of better. It is a better that is actually worse.

All of a sudden, I saw myself clearly: as an addict getting a fix. The picture scared me. The next minute, I deleted all social media from my phone. I’ve done this a million times. But now, it feels different.

Then I sat down and wrote a little over 500 words for an essay I’ve been putting off for months. The title: Did Gilmore Girls give me an eating disorder, a caffeine addiction, and a book fetish? The structure isn’t working, but I think the key points are already on the paper. It’ll come out in two days. So tomorrow I’ll need to finish it.

Screen time: 2 hours and 5 minutes.
Step count: 7.898 steps.
Went to bed feeling: Bad. My husband and I argued over something important. It wasn’t related to this phone rehabilitation of mine. It was about our son’s future. It was a bad one. I really wanted a TikTok scroll to soothe myself after it. The pain and confusion were unbearable without that immediate distraction. I don’t know how I’m ever going to recover from this dopamine trap I’ve gotten myself into.

Day 2

Our son woke up multiple times through the night. I ended up getting in his crib at 6:06 am. We slept squeezed like sardines until 8:39. I know that was the time because I checked one of our analog clocks. I couldn’t find my phone for a while, and I didn’t care. The feeling surprised me, that carelessness, I’m not going to lie. I picked up a new book from one of my book clubs¹. It might be time to transition my toddler to a bed.

These are the apps I’ve deleted from my phone: TikTok, Instagram, and Substack. These are the rules: TikTok and Instagram, I cannot log in to. Not even on my computer. Substack is the exception, of course.
This is my intention: To follow these rules for as long as I possibly can and keep a diary to record the process. Well, I’ll have to post these publications on unsolicited existence’s Instagram profile. But it’s a safe step, I don’t follow anybody in there, and I can do it from the desktop version.

1:48 pm: Fuck. I am constantly looking for distractions. For instance, I have now decided I need to buy a new perfume since I’ve convinced myself its aroma will help me go through the process of IEW (Instant Entertainment Withdrawal). I just came up with this acronym. It could also be IGSW (Instant Gratification System Withdrawal). It could also be CDW (Constant Distraction Withdrawal). What is certain is that I’m going through some kind of deprivation of what I thought was essential to my routine. I’m about to press the button that will get me to the online store’s checkout. Funny enough, the order’s processing time for this perfume is three to four weeks, which could count as the diametrical opposite of instant gratification. Look, I’m already improving.

The mind knows how to get around the mind. It’s a beautiful game to watch.

Screen time: 1 hour and 27 minutes.
Step count: 4.134 steps.
Went to bed feeling: Hopeful. Joyful. It was a pretty good day. Dashes of boredom here and there. But overall, a 9/10 kinda day, which I run short these days.

Day 3

I slept better than the previous night. Yesterday, I finished writing the essay. It ended up at 1.663 words. Kind of lengthy for what I’m used to writing for the newsletter, but I couldn’t say all that in fewer words.

Okay, my brain. This is something I noticed yesterday. My brain is constantly looking for distractions, and it’s exhausting. So I’m procuring myself different options to fill the void my phone has left. I am reading. A lot. I also got a new jigsaw puzzle from the bookstore. Working in the garden is always an option to keep my hands busy, but I need to find a system that allows me to tackle tasks that take less than 20 minutes. Otherwise, I just put it off for the future. I could break down bigger tasks, like tying the jasmine branches that are overgrown. Say it takes 30 minutes to do one jasmine plant. And say I dedicate 30 minutes each day to this project. I could have it done in two weeks. And this is a project I’ve been postponing for many months.

Oh, I have also been drawing kawaii-like figures. It’s relaxing and cute. And I can do it when I’m not home, since I always have my notebook with me.

I like that my son rarely sees me holding my phone now. I also enjoy not knowing where my phone is. I have been thinking a lot about Plato and his cavemen. They don’t know there’s freedom awaiting. If only they took a few steps forward. Isn’t this the same as the learned helplessness² I studied during my first year of psychology? Come to think of it, Plato was way ahead of his time.

Unfortunately, I had to download Instagram to share the Gilmore Girls’ essay on my stories. I did (share the thing) and deleted the app immediately after. That was easy, but now I have this uneasiness inside. I want to check who has replied (and what kind of impression they had) to my stories (of the essay). I’m dealing with this pull by organizing my studio like a crazy person. I know I can resist the tug if I just keep my hands and head busy with real, tangible things. Physical analog stuff. What a disease, God. How many years have I lived like this?

Screen time: 1 hour and 58 minutes
Step count: 9.750 steps.
I went to bed feeling: Dirty. As though there was something wrong with me. And it was only a matter of time for someone to find out and point at me while yelling, “Clean up that mess of a human!”

Day 4

Yesterday, as I was looking for a sweet snack in my pantry, I found a huge bag of old chocolate bars and candy that were intended for kids, three Halloweens ago. And now that Halloween is approaching, I could hand these to my neighbor’s kids when they knock on our door. My neighbor, as in: the one whose father-in-law yelled at me horrific, very racist things a few days ago. It would be a great revenge. Of course, it wouldn’t be fair revenge, since the poor children never chose to have him as a grandparent. After some thought and strategic planning, I discarded the idea altogether. I always do this. Plan petty revenge schemes to never act on them. Do all writers have a similar modus operandi? I’m sure a high percentage of them do.