The #1 Key to Saving A Broken Relationship
From the moment I saw her, I was in love. She was radiant like the sun and her glow was captivating. With her, I felt complete and whole. The few fleeting moments away from her felt like eternity. We were inseparable. She was the first to greet me upon waking up and the last to say goodnight before bed. We spent every waking second together, whether it was at work, in the car, or even brushing teeth.
Soon, however, the same joyful companionship morphed into something that felt increasingly suffocating. Somehow, I no longer had the time to play piano, read a book, or even cook a meal. I found it hard to focus at work with her always being around telling about me about something. I longed for my personal space but found it challenging to obtain. We went to counseling and learnt about boundary setting. Yet, despite our best intentions, we found ourselves waking up next to each other even when we didn’t want to. We were inseparable not by choice, but by habit.
I am, of course, talking about my tumultuous relationship with my iPhone. Throughout the years, I have tried various hacks and tricks to curb my addiction. I deleted all my social media apps, turned the phone to greyscale, set time limits with ScreenTime allowing a friend to set the password, and even blocked the internet. While these tricks did curb my usage slightly, I was still spending copious amounts of time checking my phone mindlessly like a madman, averaging 4–6 hours of ScreenTime and 130 unlocks per day. Since it takes about 25 minutes to regain focus after checking the phone, my effective ScreenTime was much higher. I had all but given up the battle when a trip to a thrift store reminded me of an old friend: my iPhone’s great-grandmother.
“How come I had never been addicted to the telephone?” I thought to myself. There were, of course, the obvious factors: the telephone was boring, without color, social media, or video games but beyond that, there was one key difference that caught my attention. The telephone was stationary.
“Would making my iPhone a stationary fixture curb my addiction?” I wondered. To test out the theory, I set up an “iPhone station” on my kitchen island and made a commitment to not move it from that location while I was at home. It didn’t work. Despite my resolve, before I knew it, I would find myself curled up in my bed with my phone. It was as if my iPhone was following me into my bedroom, encroaching on my personal space.
However, this behavior actually confirmed my hypothesis. Careful self-observation shed light on what was going on behind the scenes, in my mind. Because the phone was physically removed from me, I would only go to check it if there was a genuine need, like setting a calendar reminder or sending a time sensitive text message to a friend. However, once I’d open my phone, reflex would take over and I would find myself hypnotized by the slot machines once more: checking the news, checking the email, checking text messages and repeating the cycle, in a ludic loop.
Eventually, standing at the kitchen counter would get uncomfortable and instinctively, I would grab the phone and make my way to the greatest source of comfort: my bed. Laying down, with some back or front support, I could maintain my hypnotic trance and continue the ludic loop almost indefinitely. I’ve dubbed this state “iPhone Paralysis” and only a few extreme stimuli have been able to pull me out of it: pangs of hunger, calls from friends or family, or an impending commitment. Even after being pulled out, I’d typically not want to relinquish the source of dopamine. Subconsciously, I would allow the iPhone to latch on to me, like a parasite leeching attention. With the iPhone in arm’s reach in my pocket or hand, I’d once more become vulnerable to mindless checking of the phone in response to boredom.
This introspection revealed the key mechanisms behind my iPhone addiction. If social media is heroin, then portability and comfort are the syringe and needle. Portability begets proximity which greatly facilitates mindless checking. Comfort, in the form of a couch, bed, or even a chair, enables prolonged usage and being lulled into the ludic loop indefinitely. Knowledge of the inextricable link of these two variables with my iPhone addiction strengthened my resolve to transform my iPhone into a stationary fixture like a corded telephone.
With some creativity, I devised a set of subtle nudges to re-engineer my habit patterns. Instead of being chained to my phone, I decided to chain it. Replicating the telephone cord, I set up my charging station in the kitchen to serve somewhat as a physical tether on the phone’s mobility. I also placed the iPhone inside a kitchen shelf to permanently remove it from my field of vision. Then, using some rudimentary programming on the Apple Shortcuts app, I set up some automations that would check to see if the iPhone was plugged in anytime I attempted to open any app. If the automation detected the iPhone was unplugged, it would redirect me to the home screen and set the brightness to 0%, providing a gentle reminder to replace the iPhone to its station.
It has been just over a month since I’ve implemented Project Landline, as I’ve called it, and the results have been nothing short of amazing. The physical space I’ve created between myself and the iPhone, has brought with it mental space for intentionality and mindfulness. Having to walk across the room to use my phone requires me to first observe and be curious about every itch to check the phone. As a result, I simply check my phone less, averaging 30–40 pickups a day, a three-fold reduction.
When I do check my phone, it remains perched on the kitchen counter. Instead of cowering before it, I have it meet me at eye level. Maintaining such an upright posture when checking my iPhone keeps my mind alert and attentive. Being more aware helps me proactively catch myself before I fall too deep into a ludic loop and allows me to get out of one much quicker. Preventing these loops has nearly eradicated the state of iPhone Paralysis for me and each of my usage sessions are shorter and to the point. My ScreenTime has nearly halved, with an average of 2–3 hours per day.
This reclaimed time has been transformational for me. Without the constant, suffocating companionship of my iPhone, I’ve rekindled my relationship with myself. Being alone with my iPhone in arm’s reach had always felt somewhat lonely. However, by creating space, I’m now able to cherish my alone time, find more spontaneity and unlock states of deep focus. I find myself reading, playing piano, and writing this article with ease. These activities had previously been excruciatingly difficult to perform. Every page I turned, I would feel a nagging itch to check my phone. Now, it’s as if I’ve cured a mental eczema.
I’ve also re-learned how to do something I had once forgotten: play. It dawned on me that a lot of my cravings to check my iPhone came not from a need for connection, but from a need to fidget. So, I bought a hackey-sack. Most of my iPhone checks have now been replaced with playing with my hackey-sack and it feels as if I’ve grown younger. I’m able to kick a ball around aimlessly for fun without any particular rules. The freedom of this movement expression has reawakened a sense of creativity and curiosity in me that had long been dormant. I feel more alive.
Psychologists and therapists agree that the provision of space is essential to maintaining healthy, fulfilling relationships. We know this from experience and have done a relatively good job of following it when it comes to our relationships with other human beings. This success is mostly because relationships without space quickly turn toxic and usually don’t last that long. However, it seems we have completely abandoned this age-old wisdom when it comes to our relationship with technology.
Modern-day technology, particularly social media, is designed to be intrusive and addictive. However, we must remember that iPhones don’t have legs. We do. We bring them into our bedrooms, our bathrooms, and our cars. We are the clingy ones in the relationship. Our iPhones don’t even get a say in the matter. They are overworked and their creators and teachers (app developers) seem to thrive off of it. If we treated our romantic partners like we treat our iPhones, most of us would have been dumped by now.
I was about to break-up with my iPhone until I realized that if I wanted space all I had to do was give it. Let’s let go of the need to be constantly connected and treat our iPhones with some respect. Give them a bedroom with walls. Let them have alone time. Limit their work hours.
They’ll live longer and you’ll be happier.
