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{shortcode-8c0dd475ea3269f67b1a4d37d27db5cc232a1fc2}e’ve all been there: The 3:00 a.m. doom scroll.
Blue light glows from the screen as it replays 15-second TikTok videos. Instagram Reels convince you that you need to organize your refrigerator by color and put your groceries into labeled plastic containers. Your friends wake up to 50 unopened videos, time-stamped between 3:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. You Snapchat them when you wake up at noon.
For me, the worst and most recent cycle of addiction was a 3.5 hour Instagram binge. Edits of my favorite TV series reloaded every few seconds as I sank into my twin XL mattress. The instant gratification of double-tapping and moving on became all-consuming.
My obsession impacts the productivity of my school day, even causing me to do an Instagram scroll and send a few quick Snapchat pictures during class. I feel a sense of panic when my iPhone isn’t within reach. What started as an innocent way to communicate with my friends now destroys my ability to find joy in the present moment.
So, I quit.
Well, not entirely — after all, I have to text my friends what time they’ll be going to lunch. But recently, inspired by my lack of productivity, I allow myself the use of only five home screen applications for a week: iMessage, Phone, Wallet, Weather, and Clock.
Quitting my phone seems like an impossible task for me, a college student in the modern world. I attempt to discern the most useful apps — ones that will not completely disconnect me from my friends and family or prevent me from waking up on time for class. At the same time, I want to eliminate significant distractors and any chance of reverting back to the dreaded doom scroll. No more Google Calendar, Apple Music, or Safari. Using the “Downtime” iPhone feature for twenty-four hours a day, I create a metaphorical lock box for every app except those necessary few.
The first two days are challenging. It feels like second nature to walk into the elevator at One Bow Street on my way to class, send a Snapchat, and check my Gmail — but this habit is impossible without access to these apps on my phone.
I watch my classmates step into the small space and pull their handheld devices out of their pockets. I can almost taste that unspoken rule to look down at your phone during the three-floor ride, but I manage to stand with my face forward, observing the doors as they close.
I instinctively check my phone, hoping for new notifications, but I can only scroll between screens of disabled apps. People around me stand with their necks hunched over, eyes on anything except the world around them. They’re missing out on the excellent conversation they could’ve had with me in the elevator.
In this moment, I realize that I’m not the only one addicted to the dopamine release of receiving a message or sharing a funny video. In fact, research suggests that college students are the most significant users of technology and phones. In 2022, statistics showed that smartphone use was highest in adults ages 18-29, correlating directly to the university setting.
Because my distraction has been eliminated, I’m constantly observing the impact of technology around me. In Cabot Science Library, I pick out one of the many students with their laptop open, but phone in hand. When I approach Clara C. Thiele ’28 and explain my interest in phone usage, she laughs, knowing she is caught.
We get to talking about social media. “You can really get in the cycle of comparison, which is really toxic,” Thiele says. I agree — I’ve been enjoying the freedom from constantly comparing myself to every productivity-promoting, pilates-going, 1200-calorie-eating influencer on my feed.
Thiele also notes the hardship of deleting social media or detoxing from her smartphone completely. “I have crippling FOMO. I always want to be doing everything, seeing everything,” she says.
Unlike Thiele, I’m not afraid of what I’m missing, but I remain surprised each time I find I’m out of the loop. At one point, a friend has to fill me in on the women-only crew sent to space by Blue Origin — a breaking news event I would have only heard from checking my phone.
And while ignorance may be bliss, I can’t help but think there is merit to being so easily connected to people near and far. How do we find balance between staying informed and connected beyond our corner of the world, but also appreciating the present moment?
I would usually search for the answer by pulling up a few sources on my phone, but this time, I Google search on my laptop for the newly popular Mel Robbins Podcast. A guest on one episode of her show is Alok Kanojia, a former Harvard Medical School instructor in psychiatry, there to discuss the influence and control technology has over our lives.
“It’s my identity that’s becoming virtual,” Kanojia says. The largest problem he sees surrounding technology is whether we can discern ourselves beyond the pictures we post online or the Xbox gamertags we’re known by. We are how we appear online, strategically hiding the parts of our identity that make us human.
Instead of eliminating technology from our lives completely, Kanojia suggests that we find ways to develop healthy relationships with our devices.
During my detox, I sit in the discomfort of boredom, taking the silence to check in with myself. I’m ahead on my assignments and I wake up ready to take on each day. These subtle but influential benefits help me to understand the boundaries I need between me and my phone.
Halfway through my week unplugged, I walk out of Annenberg to a short rainstorm interrupting a sunny sky. Peeking out of the clouds is a vibrant rainbow. I observe people all around me stop and pull out their phones to take a photo, to prove what they see is real, to keep the moment forever. My initial reaction is also to grab my phone, but I realize that I can appreciate the beauty of this natural phenomenon without having proof of seeing it. I realize that the rainbow can be just a beautiful moment instead of an Instagrammable one. Instead of thinking about how this rainbow can become part of my online identity, I just appreciate the magic.
In a way, I’m simply less aware of myself. Without the constant recognition of how each moment might look online, I don’t have to wonder whether a picture captures what I see.
From my own experience limiting my smartphone use, I discover that my phone affects how I interact with the world. And recognizing the pull technology has over my life is the first step to changing it.
I don’t know that uninstalling every app is the solution to smartphone addiction. But for me, stepping away and eliminating the distraction of the small, handheld device allows me to see parts of myself and the world I have never noticed before.
On the next warm, sunny day, I’d like to put my phone down and feel the light on my skin. I’d like to be present in the place where my feet are planted.
—Magazine writer McKenzie E. Lemmo can be reached at mckenzie.lemmo@thecrimson.com.
