The experience of being without a phone felt like three separate experiences.
Pre-No-Phone-Day
When arranging for a smooth Saturday without a phone, it felt like I was preparing for a departure.
Saturdays are usually a pretty relaxed day for me; reading, spending time with friends, catching up with schoolwork. I selected this Saturday far in advance because I knew that weekdays without a phone would probably lead to too much chaos in the form of missed meetings and misplaced classrooms.
The evening before, I prepared for a day without a phone by notifying my sister (also my housemate) that I would like to be woken up by 9am and by sending a note to my friend ahead of time that although I will not text him the day of, I will in fact, be reading to study at Tatte Bakery at 1pm. In the evening, my sister and I agreed to meet at home at 9pm before heading out together for an outing.
The No-Phone-Day Itself
I woke up without my phone alarm at a reasonable time, but realized I had forgotten to check the weather. No matter, I wore layers.
Without meaning to sound dramatic, I will say that the experience of not having a phone felt in some ways like having phantom sensations about something that is not a limb, but something that does in many ways feel like an extra part of my body. I kept reaching for my phone, expecting to feel the weight of it in my pocket. This happened throughout the day and even until the end of the 24-hour no phone break, I still could not get used to the sensation of being without my phone.
Without a phone, I rushed to my study session early because I knew that I would be unable to notify my friend if I was late. I stood outside Tatte Bakery, holding a giant UPS package, waiting for my friend before realizing that indeed, he had been inside this whole time. With a phone, I could have been able to text and have expedited the process. However, the uncertainty leant a layer of serendipity to the day. Without the ability to reach out to friends and see what others were doing during the day, I instead felt a sense of really being in one place and the sensation of really being fully present.
Throughout the study session, I kept reaching for my phone to check the time, or to Google search the definition of a word (“ubiquitous”). A real clock or a dictionary? Nowhere in sight.
Something else I had forgotten to do was to search for the nearest UPS drop-off location and to also search for the UPS store hours on a Saturday. The result, I ended up back home still holding the same package, having given up on dropping it off and knowing that I would have my phone tomorrow, decided to do it then.
I concluded my evening meeting my sister back home by the appointed time. She sent a photo of me to my family group chat, proving that I was, indeed, still alive.
Post-No-Phone-Day
After the 24 hours ended, I immediately turned on my phone. Messages popped up and I quickly read them. The daily communications between myself and my family and friends could be skipped for a day and the exercise of not having a phone provided me with more mental space. However, the stuff of life is sometimes the daily communication with people you love, even if they are far away.
I enjoyed challenging my dependence on my phone and after this experience, would like focus on using for meaningful connections, not just augmented reality to my day. “Addiction” feels like a strong word to describe my relationship to my phone. But in this reflection, I did also call it my additional limb. It feels like a superpower, empowering my access to knowledge and connection, but hindering me from feeling truly present anywhere.