Turn Down for What: Smart Phone Addiction is Real
I’m addicted to my smart phone. As it turns out, I’m not alone.
Nearly 40-percent of Americans have nomophobia, or the fear of being without one’s smartphone. A 2013 article in Psychology Today defines the disorder as a, “rush of anxiety when [you] realize [you’re] disconnected and out of the loop with friends family, work, and the world.” The author, a medical doctor, highlights its symptoms. While some are predictable – a compulsion to constantly check the phone; a feeling of anxiousness when the phone isn’t within arm’s reach – others are surprising. Feel as though you don’t truly hear the people around you? Easily forget in-person conversations? You, too. may be nomophobic.
I have justified my reliance on my cell phone for years by citing the Easiness Factor: My smartphone definitely, absolutely, makes my life easier. There’s the shared calendar and shopping list that streamlines communication between my husband and me. There’s the ability to pay bills, check the forecast and find cheap airline flights with the swipe of my index finger. Indeed, I’m a juggler at the housewife circus and, thanks to my smart phone, I’m keeping all the balls in the air.
But does my cell phone make my life better?
Research suggests Millennials check their cell phones upwards of 150 times per day. (Gulp.) That’s 150 times I consciously exit the moment and retreat into the neon-white glow of my smart phone. That’s 12 times per waking hour in which I choose to escape my own life – the one I should be living – in favor of my digital one.
Researchers Yildirim and Coreia created a 20-part questionnaire to determine a person’s nomophobic severity. I took it, and I answered honestly. My results weren’t promising. I wondered whether all those harmless glances at my phone added up to something devastating (a mother connected to the web yet disconnected from her kids, for instance).
I knew that, if I’m serious about halting my mindless consumption of “stuff”, I must also address my mindless consumption of media. So I threw my phone in the top drawer of my desk and, for an entire day, vowed to ignore it.
Here’s what happened.
I felt a constant urge to check my phone almost immediately. In the first hours, there was slow-simmering anxiety – the kind that gnaws at you slowly – and boredom. I left the house for a short errand around midday, deliberately leaving the phone home, and even this simple task produced significant stress. In the afternoon, more boredom. Lots and lots of boredom, coupled with loneliness.
It occurred to me then the real reason behind my nomophobia: the life of a a stay-at-home mom can be mundane, and my smart phone offers the possibility of escape.
It distracts me from 24-piece puzzles and dress up and spit up and tantrums. However contradictory, disconnecting from my kids makes me feel not quite so alone. Not quite so isolated.
But I’m forcing myself to shift my thinking. Instead of lamenting about the great things my smartphone adds to my life, I’m choosing to focus on the not-so-great-things it “gives”:
_____
It “gives” unproductive distractions from my already frenetic life in the form of jingles, bells, bings, and tweets.
_____
It “gives” a flood of incessant advertisements that urge me to purchase things we don’t need; we already have plenty.
_____
It “gives” me unneeded stress, because news headlines almost always offer bad news. (Climate change is now irreversible! Childhood cancer is on the rise!) The news bums me out, and I neither want nor need to be bummed out 150 times per day.
_____
But perhaps the biggest drawback to my cellphone usage is what it takes away, and that’s the precious time I have with my kids. I’ve vowed to live in the moment – EVERY moment, even the tough ones – so for now, at least, I’m continuing to store the phone in a drawer. I’m not interested in doing anything drastic (like permanently turning off my phone); for me, that’s impractical.
But I AM interested in simplifying my life in all areas; plus, Ani is always watching. She models her behavior after mine, and I want to show – not tell – that it’s her I value, not the smart phone.
