Nomophobia: The fear of being without your mobile phone.
Last week, I set out on a rare excursion into the real world, on the hunt for a loaf of sourdough and a good book (you know, the essentials). On the heat-soaked walk home, a familiar - and dreaded - hot/cold shiver washed over me. I hadn’t checked my phone in over an hour.
Where was it? What had I missed?
I stopped on the side of the road and began to frantically scramble through my bag - haplessly squishing freshly purchased jamun in the process - as I searched for the all-important smartphone.
And, sure enough, it was there (as it always is). But as the phone made its way into my hands, a thought was increasingly making its home in my mind: nomophobia.
Before this year, I’d been very fortunate to avoid any dependency on my mobile phone. I’d happily abandon it for hours, and was a firm believer in the power of flight-moded afternoons. But now, here I was, caught up in an almost out-of-body experience, tangled in a wholly unnecessary flurry of panic.
How did this happen? How did I succumb to the irrationality of nomophobia?
My answer: self isolation. For the past seven months, my phone - and its army of notification-spouting apps - has been my only point of contact with anyone I’m not seeing in person. Which is everyone.
And so, these days, I often find myself stealing quick, anxious glances at the smartphone - an uninvited reflex that has, somehow, evolved as a by-product of our supposed new ‘normal’. It’s unfamiliar, it’s tiring, and it has me wondering: what exactly is normal about this?
One thing is clear: the pressure to always be switched on, is switching me off. It’s time for a solution, for a proverbial nip in the bud. So, here we are.
Here’s my take on how we can cope with a life shifted online - a life rife with worries of the technological kind.
Don’t Rush to Respond
Potentially relatable situation: after an impossibly frenetic day, I’ll sit down to blog, to get immersed in the calm and catharsis my writing habit gifts me. And then. A text message will emerge, disrupting the peace of the flow state, replacing said flow state with an urgent, heart-fluttering need to quickly read, to quickly respond. Why?
Why do we battle with the need to reply - and to be replied to - instantly?
Contrary to the stories we tell ourselves, I believe there are very few situations in which a fast response is truly required. Learn to recognise these situations, and firmly step back from everything else.
My replies have always been more considered when I allow myself the time to craft a calm reply - not a rapid, box-ticking message, shot off for the sake of being rapid (and nothing else).
We know this. We also know that continuously engaging with our phone, our messages, ‘just checking up’ on our notifications at all-too-frequent intervals throughout the day, will irrevocably splinter our focus into unmanageable pieces.
And so, when the time comes to focus, the conditions are simple: put the phone aside. Gift your replies the attention they deserve, when the time is right for you.
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Do the Shower Challenge
I am entirely cognisant of how strange - and overly simplistic - this particular piece of advice may seem. However, I’m also cognisant of how effective it has been for me. Here goes:
Pretend you’re in the shower. That’s it. That’s the strategy.
When you’re showering, (I’d hope) you’re not in a position to use your phone. And I think there should be many other situations in which you don’t want to be in a position to use your phone.
Wherever you may be - picnicking in the park, on a sunset jog, knee-deep in a mystery novel - just be there. Pretend you aren’t able to use your phone and just immerse yourself in the joy of real, tangible, life. The digital version of it will be there when you’re ready for it.
I’m almost certain that the disproportionately higher number of creative, insightful, thoughts that join us in the shower are a direct result of the absence of smartphone distractions. Just a (shower) thought.
Remember: the digital world will get along just fine without you constantly engaging and interacting with it.
And so, let go. Let go of the need to be constantly online, to be constantly available.
Whatever it is, it can wait.
Until next time,
S
Cover image captured by Jason Leem for Unsplash.
