Breaking Free from the Internet

Or something like that...

In my senior year homeroom, my friend, Logan, was the first to get an iPhone. We all crowded around to see the device, oohing and ahhing as he showed us all of the features — features which we would now deem fairly rudimentary. It was groundbreaking, but not yet pervasive. I had a flip phone or maybe it was one of those popular Nokia models. If you were fancy, but not yet iPhone fancy, you had a Razr or a Sidekick, possibly your mom’s old Blackberry. Facebook existed, but it was simple, and dare I say, it was veering on pure? Perhaps, that is a stretch. My memory of using the website was to write silly things on my friend’s walls, to update my status (does anyone remember when every status started with “is”?), and to upload the 50 unedited pictures I took that weekend with my pink digital camera. 

As I entered college, then later graduated and started my career, the changes felt both gradual and swift. In the span of half a decade, I, too, had an iPhone complete with Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, YouTube, and Gmail apps. I lost that pink digital camera, but it didn’t matter anymore — my iPhone could do it all. In my early twenties, the emerging technology excited me. Even learning about targeted advertising — getting ads for products that I “swear I just thought I needed!” — felt helpful and convenient.  I was proud to be an early adopter of tech — I always got the newest iPhone, and I was among the first of my friends to open an Instagram account.

There were, of course, moments when I’d recognize I was starting to form bad habits. I’d scroll endlessly on a trashy celeb gossip blog, even while claiming I hated celebrity gossip. I’d stay up for hours binging low-brow tv shows. I’d answer work emails at odd hours or on the weekend, ignoring my then-boyfriend, now-husband, during date night. 

These didn’t feel like habits I’d have forever. As any young adult, I felt invincible. I certainly had the rest of my life to start spending my time better, right? 

The years continued to pass, and I began to recognize that my habits were only worsening. I would waste weekends scrolling on my phone, I’d push the limits of my paycheck buying clothes recommended by the influencers that I was following, and I was checking my phone near constantly. I was unable to put my phone down, not just for fear of missing an important email — it had truly become a compulsion. 

Despite my own compounding habits, I’d become irate at the technology-obsessed world around me. Walking to work in Manhattan, I’d think “put down your damn phones!” to the pedestrians glued to their devices. Minutes later, I’d pick my own phone up to help pass the cumbersome three minutes in the elevator. Of course, I was projecting. Of course, I couldn’t see it. 

I learned about the “algorithm” — one of Silicon Valley’s tools for keeping your eyeballs glued to the screen and your thumb scrolling endlessly. Despite knowing it was created to keep me there, to control me, I couldn't escape it. My anxiety deepened. My bouts of sadness stretched longer, and I couldn’t blame it on Seasonal Depression anymore come May. I had the perspective to logically look at my life and see how incredibly lucky I was, what a good life and career I had built. And yet, it never felt like enough. Did technology make me depressed or did it just exasperate something else growing inside me? 

I often day-dreamed of having a “dumb phone,” but it never could come to fruition. For one, I had a demanding career which required near-constant emailing, phone calls, Zooms, and shared documents in the Cloud. But even later, when I left that career to parent my young kids full-time, it felt impossible to say goodbye to the many tools I relied on — Google maps, banking apps, Spotify and Audible, to name a few. There didn’t seem to be an obvious solution. I suppose because the fact is, there isn’t one. 

In Anna Lenke’s popular Dopamine Nation, there’s an interaction Anna is describing with one of her patients — a young teen who is self-admittedly addicted to cannabis, but doesn’t want to change her ways. Anna and her patient are discussing if the patient would be willing to stop using cannabis for a month. Their conversation goes like this:

“Do you think you would be able and willing to stop cannabis for a month?”

“Hmm…I don’t think I’m ready to try quitting now, but maybe later. For sure I’m not going to be smoking like this forever.”

“Do you still want to be using cannabis like this ten years from now?”

“No. No way. Definitely not.” She shook her head vigorously.

“How about five years from now?”

“No, not in five years either.”

“How about a year from now?”

Pause. Chuckle. “I guess you got me there, Doc. If I don’t want to be using like this in a year, I might as well try to stop now.”

She looked at me and smiled. “Okay, let’s do this.”

There’s another quote that haunts me, and I refer to it a lot in my writing. It’s not from a psychologist, but a poet, Mary Oliver.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

- Mary Oliver

I do not know how to pay attention, how to be idle, how to stroll through the fields. But I do not, with my one wild and precious life, plan to spend the rest of my days stuck in the algorithm. I knew I had to start making changes in my life and to delve deeper into the reason why I’m — dare I say the word — addicted* to my phone. 

In Johann Hari’s book, Stolen Focus, he delves into the idea of flow state. He explains that you can remove all the digital clutter, but you have to fill your time with something meaningful, something you believe in. When you find that thing — be it something physical, reading, writing, etc.— you lose track of time. You’re so engaged in this flow state, that it seems you could go on forever. When I started learning and writing about digital minimalism, and really how we even got to the point that we need a term like digital minimalism, I didn’t realize that it would become a flow state for me. Now, for the first time since college, I have a pile of nonfiction library books piled up next to my bed. I’m yearning for stolen moments to map this all out, to get to a deeper grasp of how to better shape my relationship with technology. 

Reshaping my relationship with technology.

Our world is reliant on tech. To completely break free from the Internet would be impossible for most people, save for the extremely privileged. The title of this Substack is hyperbolic, but it gets to the point. We may not be able to break free, we can, however, reshape our relationship.

My journey is only getting started. In fact, I’m still deep in the trenches. I deleted my Instagram, Facebook, and Reddit apps at the beginning of this past summer, but I still indulge in scrolling on the latter two on my browser. I’ve turned off most notifications and judiciously utilize the Do Not Disturb feature, but I still tend to pick up my phone at every lull, at every chance to procrastinate. I’m mortified that my weekly phone usage this week is averaging 4 hours a day, which is down 10% from last week. Progress? Yes. But I’m months into this journey. What was my daily usage at the beginning of the summer? Four hours a day is more than an entire day spent on my phone every week. 

So, I’ll continue down this path, and you’ll help me, and hopefully, I can help you too. 

Some housekeeping things.

I want to make a quick note on the idea of “cruel optimism” which Hari discusses in Stolen Focus. Quickly, the idea is that it’s cruel to put the onus of change solely on the individual. While yes, making changes in your life to take control of how you use tech is vital, the bigger picture remains: society must shift too. I do believe this, and I have a lot of thoughts ruminating on the subject that I’ll discuss in future essays. 

I will say this now — tech companies designed the technology you use to suck you in so that they can profit. Read that again. If you feel unease about your relationship with technology, you must never blame yourself. It was not a failing on your part that causes you to scroll endlessly, to yearn for likes and comments, to pick up your phone thousands of times a day. Society does require major changes. However, today, in this moment, you can only rely on yourself to begin to reform your habits. The first step in making a greater change is to make a small change. 

Lastly, I’m aware that it could seem counterproductive (and maybe hinting on hypocritical) to add more content to the Internet in an effort to help people reshape their habits on the Internet. I hope this can be more positive than detrimental. I chose Substack, and only Substack, for this purpose. The growth of this platform has been encouraging to me. It shows me that I’m not alone in yearning for more long-form content and for ways to support other writers financially without lending to the Meta-machine. 

I’m dipping my toes into the Substack world, so we will see together what works and what doesn’t. Paid subscriptions are open, but currently it’s just an option if you’d like to support what I’m doing in this corner of the web. I hope to add some exclusive features in the coming weeks, but I’m not going to rush into it. 

I love feedback, and I hope you will share your thoughts, ideas, and constructive criticism. 

If you’ve gotten this far or plan to subscribe, thank you. Your support means more than I’ll be able to put into words. 

And with that, let’s do this thing.

*If you are struggling with an addiction to your devices that is so strong, you cannot function in your daily life, please seek help immediately. There are resources for you. Start with texting or calling 988. More resources can be found at the bottom of my About page.

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Hi reader. In the coming weeks, I’m launching a new reader Q&A series. If you have a question about digital minimalism or starting your own journey to break free from the internet, shoot me a message at the link below.