There are many things in my life that make me a little uneasy. Like almost every human being alive, I have dark shadows cast deep in the corners of my subconscious that, if left unattended, leak out in funny, mostly unpleasant ways.
Every now and again I do a scan, paying close attention to these things and making it a point to explore what it’s about – a New Year’s resolution of some sort, except with the liberty to choose any random date.
And speaking of random dates, my most recent resolution started on a Wednesday night, when I finally decided to address my addiction to my phone.
I first consciously noticed it on a Sunday afternoon. I just finished a workout with my cousin, and she asked me to lock something up for her before we went into the sauna. I was good about leaving my phone in the locker during the workout (especially if I wasn’t going to be listening to music) but when I opened the locker and threw her stuff in, I felt like I had to give my phone a quick check. What alarmed me about this check wasn’t the act, but the feeling I had just as I was about to close the locker. It was a slightly panicked jerk in my mind – the kind you get when you close the door behind you in the morning and suddenly realize you left something important on the kitchen counter. I closed the locker and immediately swung it open again to look at my phone. Rest assured, I had no messages or phone calls and everything in the world was safely in place. I already knew what time it was, so my phone didn’t even offer me solace in that.
The fact that my phone showed me absolutely nothing, even though I made it so important to check stood out to me. A flush of embarrassment ran through my body and I said out loud “I’m too attached to my phone.”
As soon as I spoke the words I knew it was true.
Now the truth is dangerous for my ego because as soon as I find it, there’s no turning back. Sometimes I try and forget about it, or talk myself into a more palatable truth, but all to no avail. If I allow myself to realize it, truth will haunt me until I address it and it won’t release a moment sooner.
My cousin responded and told me that she too was on the brink of being suffocated by the dopamine driven device we call a phone; she was officially taking a social media hiatus. I had done the same before and saw nothing but positive effects, so I decided to go along the same path and agreed to join her silently in my head. I was off to a great start.
Of course, the break from social media was not enough and truth came prodding my brain yet again.
I have this nasty habit of playing games in my phone. It started out as a reasonable response to my anxiety while riding public transportation to and from work. If I started to feel claustrophobic during a crowded train ride, the game would distract my mind from concocting dramatic stories of my impending doom, as I helplessly plunged into the river when the train car gave in to the weight of the people and inevitably tipped right over the edge . . .
I digress. It was an easy fix at first, but eventually I started playing phone games while waiting for the train, in elevators, at the line in the grocery store, sitting in a coffee shop waiting for a friend, eating my food at work, during commercial breaks on television, and pretty much any time I was idle.
This phone gaming addiction had blossomed into full blown crutch status.
It started to swallow me up and I used it to bandage that restless feeling I carry with me almost all the time. It was time to rip my phone out of my heart, patch up the damage, and become whole again. I resolved to only use my phone to contact people, and occasionally check the time.
Of course, I wasn’t ready for this insurmountable feat, so in the middle of playing my game I reasoned with myself that I would start the journey in April; plenty of time to get the gaming ‘out of my system.’ Truth had a better idea and came disrupting my winning streak with a simple line of logic:
Well the game is already deep in your system, there’s no reason for you to start in April.
There it was again, that thing I didn’t want to hear.
Here I was again, trying to ignore it because after all, I was on level 1,477 on Candy Crush Soda Saga (true story) and that’s impressive right?
It was a sign of how ridiculous this game addiction was. Truth won, and right then and there, on a random Wednesday night, I started ripping my phone away from my heart. As I bled from the wound, I ironically felt lighter, like I opened yet another window to let some more light in and a little bit of fresh air.
The next day I accidentally played the game twice in the middle of dealing with some frustration. I concluded that I obviously could not be trusted with the apps anywhere near me, so I deleted them and all the levels I won, which carried with them the baggage of the person I never wanted to be anyway – a person crippled with anxiety who could only be tamed with obsessing over something else. A person simply masking a deeply rooted issue she is afraid to face head on.
A person, for whatever reason, hiding from herself for fear of what she might find inside.
I guess it’s the small things that make us better people; the kind of people who take control of their lives and follow truth down whatever path it leads us, no matter how grueling the growing pains may be. The kind of people who are courageous in all their endeavors, no matter the size and who aren’t afraid to heal