I
unlocked my iPhone just as my weekly screen time notifications popped up—an accidental dismissal before I could take a screenshot—and a wave of frustration washed over me. After dedicating an exhausting week to minimizing my phone usage, aiming to reduce my daily screen time from over four hours to under one, I hoped to enhance my mental wellbeing (and maybe even launch a career as an inspirational speaker). Yet, my efforts felt futile as I couldn’t post any proof online showcasing my offline status. I even contemplated using Photoshop to fabricate a screen time report and scoured Google for a way to retrieve notifications (to no avail).
Over the last decade or so, I’ve tried various self-improvement approaches. I’ve read 105 books in a year, unintentionally eliminated sugar (even from fruit) for a spell, and dabbled in shamanism, including interpretive dance. While I might suggest mastering cooking, driving, and typing with all fingers, I can’t seem to reach myself since I’ve stopped staring at my phone.
Exchange one obsession for another… Joe Stone of Tenerife.
Photo: Courtesy of Joe Stone
“Project Screen Time” was born after I listened to a podcast where comedians recommended avoiding social media for two hours after waking. Absorbing this advice—albeit from an amateur who couldn’t quite trace its origin—I decided to avoid checking Instagram first thing in the morning… and it worked. Surprisingly, steering clear of a barrage of other people’s abs before I’d fully woken up actually lifted my spirits. Even more impressively, I found I could usually hold off until after lunch if I didn’t see anything I felt compelled to react to. This brief moment of clarity quickly morphed into a whirlwind, typical of my approach to new challenges.
I swapped one fixation (constantly checking my phone) for another (intentionally not doing so). In the second week, my screen time plummeted to two hours a day. By the third week, it was down to one-and-a-half hours, and I decided to aim for under 60 minutes. A part of me was impressed that this newfound ability was working well and I appeared to be normal. However, I couldn’t keep this “gift” to myself, gradually boring my friends, acquaintances, and even service workers with tales of my newfound discipline.
Eventually, my quest took on new disruptions. I resented having to pull up maps on my phone, and while cycling, I often found myself lost. Want to show someone a photo or meme? Sorry, you’ll have to Google it on their device instead. I even hesitated to order an Uber after a night out, enduring the agony of watching the app slowly crawl toward my location while my screen time ticked away.
My frustration amplified when my screen time statistics didn’t reflect my efforts. I barely glanced at my phone by 2 PM, yet the data indicated I had used it for 36 minutes. Conspiratorial thoughts began to surface. My screen time report was divided into blue (social), turquoise (entertainment), and orange (productivity and finance). Yet, the majority of my time appeared as a prominent gray. What on earth could that gray signify?!
Eventually, “screen time” was added to my list of taboo topics (along with Taylor Swift’s music and lore, and my interest in Ron DeSantis) that were off-limits at home. My lowest moment occurred while sharing my weekly statistics with a friend. He inquired why “Settings” was my third most-used app. That was simply where I went to check my screen time.
My meltdown over not being able to celebrate my record low screen time (51 minutes a day!) served as a wake-up call. What started as a quest to reduce screen time morphed into a new phone addiction. Instead of escaping the urge to seek validation online, I found an alternate way to gain approval. Nevertheless, all was not lost. This realization nudged me toward the acceptance that I would likely never be a moderate person. I can’t rely on self-regulation (my latest regime—skin care—involves LED masks that automatically shut off after 10 minutes; I fear wearing them in the office could evoke comparisons to a vibrant Hannibal Lecter).
Ultimately, I gave up trying to recapture the elusive Screen Time Report. Instead, I resolved to share fewer aesthetic charts from settings that I could post online. Almost instantly, my DMs exploded with queries about how I managed to refrain from scrolling. I responded to every single one, and a rush of dopamine flooded my reward centers. That day, my screen time was recorded at 3 hours and 36 minutes.
Source: www.theguardian.com
