Me & My Phone
No question, my phone has some power over me.
I go to it like a bee to nectar. Except bees need nectar to live. I need water, air, food, community. I may really want my phone, but I don't need it to live.
If I'm waiting in line or on hold, I'll check emails, texts, the weather, what a particular author looks like. With a phone, there's the danger of never being bored.
I'm working to transfer the power from my phone back to me. I'd thought about going cold turkey; no phone anytime. But that seemed like starting a marathon at top speed; within the first mile, I'd peter out and stop altogether.
So, I'm small stepping it.
When I'm writing, I put my phone behind my laptop where I can't see it.
When I'm listening to a podcast, I don't text, email, look up a phrase I didn't understand. If it's really important, I'll remember to do it when the podcast is over.
When I'm having coffee with someone, the phone stays in my bag or pocket.
I'm not more creative, less tense, sleeping better. But I do feel there's a power shift slowly unfolding. I don't think of my phone with the same level of urgency. I can wait in line and look at the people around me. I can risk a bit of boredom, which often means I'm finding a bit of freedom.
And what I'm moving towards is a relationship where it's not my phone and me. It's me. And then my phone.