NADLER: NO-PHONE ZONE
There are times in life when we are tested, when we are challenged to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, to experience true hardship, real pain.
The first time I was forced to face my inner mettle was that time last year when I gave up carbs. They were, without a doubt, the worst two hours of my life. And sure, I can probably reach for other like examples, but isn’t that one significant enough? I mean, the headaches, the mood swings, the hunger. Oh, the hunger. Thank God someone brought a tray of cookies into the office because I just don’t know what would have happened. It was one of my toughest mornings in recent memory. Until now. A recent study by research firm dscout revealed that the average person touches their mobile phone 2,617 times a day. That number shoots as high as 5,427 times a day for heavy users, about the top 10 per cent of us. Which means I must touch my phone at least 10,000 times a day. I use my phone for everything. Everything. It is my connection to my friends, my family, my work, my leisure time. I use my phone to bank, make dinner reservations, shop, wake me up, put me to sleep, tell me the time, tell me I’m lazy when I haven’t walked enough that day, entertain me with videos, TV shows and music, inform me via social media and news apps. I take notes on my phone, I map out driving routes with it, I buy coffee with it, I take and edit photos with it.
Many of you will scoff, but my phone is my everything. It is my entire world packaged into a glossy black screen and colourful Kate Spade case. And I will touch it for no real reason when I’m stressed out or bored, because sometimes it’s just nice to know it’s there.
So when I was told by my doctor that I couldn’t look at my phone, couldn’t touch it for a week, I knew I had a problem.
Never mind the concussion that was the source of my strife.
The one I sustained by … um, rushing the ball into a pack of hefty linebackers? OK, no, that didn’t happen. Banging my head against a rock while heroically trying to save a small child who had fallen into a pit? No, that didn’t happen either.
Inexplicably standing up really fast while crouched under the deck trying to dig out mushrooms so that my pets wouldn’t eat them and subsequently smashing my head against a beam? Yep, that’s the winner. No screens for a week, she said. No computer, no TV, no phone. No driving, reading, booze, exercising. My brain had to rest, to reset, so to speak. So I lay there, staring at the ceiling, reaching out to touch my phone on the nightstand out of habit, for some comfort, for … something.
Truth be told, it was painful to look at it and I spent most of that first week asleep anyway. Not watching TV is, for me, I mean, wow. But no phone? No social media, no news apps? If the world exploded, I wouldn’t have known.
It was an unsettling feeling. Peaceful, but unsettling.
So I made a deal with myself those first few days that I would wait four hours before checking texts or emails.
And then, I would give myself only two minutes of screen time. I could do that, right? Four hours? Um, barely. In those four hours I probably touched, but didn’t look at (unlock, swipe, read) my phone 2,617 times. Many of you will say it’s a problem. To that I say: you’re the problem! I have my phone addiction totally under control. Sort of. I’m fine with it, OK? It hasn’t taken over my life. Too much.
One week turned into two, as is the way with concussions, I’m told. And as I sit on my deck watching my cat saunter through (and ignore) what is now a veritable field of mushrooms, I can tell it was all truly worth it. Whatever. The concussion will heal in time. But my addiction to my phone? That’s something else entirely.