Phonelessness: a Story of Helplessness and Phone Addiction in the Big Wide World

I sit here completely phoneless, the empty space in my pocket feeling heavy with the loss of such a faithful companion, while his screen is being fixed after his heartbreaking dive onto the bathroom tiles this morning.

I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to my phone, but even in the few hours this morning when mine has been reduced to a useless glowing brick, I have noticed just how many times I reach for it, because the need to check it hasn’t been fulfilled. I often fantasise about abandoning modern life and getting myself a little flip phone, just something simple that I can call people on, maybe check WhatsApp for work, and it would be great to have Spotify so I can have a boogie. When I’m out in the world, that’s all I really need. Except it isn’t.

Before I left the house, I had to check if I had any money in my bank account using my laptop, and then find my physical bank cards, because I do all my banking on my phone. I had no music to listen to in the car because I have no CD player, just an aux. I had to pay for parking at the machine in the car park instead of on the app. I had to pay for my tea with my card and try to remember the PIN, because I usually only use Apple Pay. As I sat down to do some work, I realised I couldn’t log in to the websites I needed to use because I didn’t have my phone for two-factor authentication. I also realised there is no wifi in this cafe, I guess I always use my hotspot when I come here. All in all, a terribly difficult morning, I'm sure you'll agree.

I thought I was just addicted to my phone, but it turns out I am almost completely reliant on it.

I had to capture the dire situation of my screen using my laptop camera... I still couldn't escape the urge... [photo of me holding up my glitching, smashed phone]

I get frustrated and angry at the fact that tech companies blatantly use psychology to manipulate us into using their apps. One Silicon Valley insider told the BBC ‘It's as if they're taking behavioural cocaine and just sprinkling it all over your interface’ (1), all while knowing exactly what they’re doing.  Every time I find myself sitting on Instagram or TikTok, I’m disappointed I’ve fallen for it again, because how dare I give these immensely powerful tech billionaires exactly what they want, how dare I let them control my time, manipulate my interests and steal my energy. I hate the idea that I am being trained by Mark Zuckerburg to cling to my phone, counting likes and interactions like the hearts represent my health in the video game of my life. I try my best to take this power away from them, I place strict limits on their apps, I take notice of why I open them, when and for how long, and I attempt to use them for my own purposes instead of being sucked into their realm. (I like to think of myself as a sourcerer looking into another world to gather intel, interesting information, the odd funny dog video, and inject a little bit of something good before I close the portal)

But we all know that social media specifically can be a problem, what I hadn’t really realised was how complete my phone’s control over me is. Without it, it’s pretty difficult to function in the world, at least for me.

Where to go from here? Using my phone for everything does make my life easier. I don’t have to go out with a bulky purse full of cards and cash. I don’t need a separate device with music on. I don’t have to bring my camera everywhere with me in case there is a moment or a site I want to capture. It really is an incredible and useful piece of technology, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the first person to think that. But where is the line between an aid and a necessity? And how does this translate on a wider scale?

Although I love the convenience of having a little device in my pocket that has access to all the information in the world as well as all my money and personal details and the details of and contact with everyone I know or could hope to know, there is something menacing about the fact that I have no idea how it works, it is made of glass and has the potential to be controlled remotely. This thing that I need to use for work and to live my life is pretty out of my control, yet I am in its. And the scary thing is, I feel like I fall fairly heavily on the anti-phone side of things; some people are much more reliant on their phones than me. Does my couple of phone-free hours hint at more than a minor personal inconvenience? Are we as a society too reliant on technology? 

Stock photo of someone working in a cafe - I didn't have my phone, so I couldn't document this specific moment...

I recognise the irony of this question. I type this on my laptop, while listening to music on my Bluetooth headphones, and you are probably reading this on your phone. In a way, I’m not sure we can even ask if we are too reliant on technology when most of us don’t have a choice (I can’t imagine making a spreadsheet by hand is much fun…), I think the real question is, if social media and our phones in general have so much control over us, who has control over them?

Perhaps this isn’t the space to discuss global conglomerate control (I feel Larry and Sergey reading over my shoulder as I type this up in Google Docs), but I do want to urge you to question how much you rely on the technology in your lives. How much energy do you devote to social media? Can you survive a day completely without your phone? Do you even know any of your own passwords, or does Google just auto-input them for you? 

My goal for the next week is to spend more time completely without my phone, not just not looking at it, because what I’ve failed to mention is how nice it is to have this toxic relationship severed. I’ve enjoyed the quiet and the fact that no one can bother me, even with good news. No one expects me to reply straight away, and I don’t like feeling like I have to. 

Maybe you, too, can go phoneless for a couple of hours this week.