I’m one to admit, full front and whole-heartedly that I am addicted to the usage of my phone. It’s honestly an additional limb for me.

Just analyzing my usage of time spent on it or with it is incredible.

It’s what I wake up to in the morning as an alarm, I’ll scroll through social media sites checking my updates and comments people have left in the evening/going into morning. I’ll tend to my messages and carefully craft responses betwixt getting ready for class in the morning in the bathroom.

Walking to class, I’ll turn on Spotify and continue texting while treacherously walking with my head facing the floor, dodging human obstacles, stairways, and heavy doors.

When in class, I’ll attempt to put my phone away but there’s always a tugging hunger that taints the back of my mind and my fingers find their way into my pockets to pull out my phone—even if just to check and see an empty screen only reminding me of how slowly time moves.

At dinner, when there’s a lull in the conversation immediately everyone flees to their phones, whether to deter the silence, find something to talk about, or enter a new conversation with someone not even in the room.

This was the life I was accustomed to.

But, as of this past weekend, after foolishly dropping my already irreversibly cracked phone in a toilet, all hope was lost and my cellular device was finally laid to rest in phone heaven.

In the moment of dropping my phone, I will admit that I cried. Not only was it because I had lost any hope of recollecting my phone, but because of the photos, messages, and reminders lost with it. Even mentioning previously how dependent on my phone I am, I think it’s safe to say that’s how it is for many kids in my generation. We use it as a place to hold notices, write events in our calendars and set reminders of places to be. We use it to communicate with friends, and bosses, classmates to work on school projects, family members to keep in touch with, and the list just goes on and on.

That was all gone in a flash, and I couldn’t help feel guilty because it was easily preventable. Just a stupid mistake—not to mention I do not have the funds to replace my phone. So the defining blow of losing it in water, was the final nail in the coffin of solitary.

Or so I thought.

Upon waking up the first morning without a phone, I was met with the sheer wave of relief.

Sure there was a panic, because I didn’t have an alarm or any clock in my room (I made a mental note to make sure that changed, and proceeded to borrow one from a friend, S/O to Bergen Jome for saving the day) but there was a nice warmth in my body by not feeling obligated to go on and check what had gone on in social media land without me as I slept.

I lazily went about my day, with no distractions and no temptation of just grabbing my phone and waste a few minutes here and there—that actually add up to at least a few hours a day.

Going to meals was a new experience, because first off there was no way to constantly communicate with someone if they wanted to get a meal with me and if they were even there. Usually, I just text a friend if they want to go grab food. We then continue texting once one of us enters the cafeteria and tells where the other is going to sit.

This time, I had to either go out of my way to find the person—either in their room or passing in the hall, and make tentative plans.

“Want to get lunch at 1:20? We can meet in the lobby and then go in from there!”

Often times I wouldn’t even remember to ask someone if they wanted to grab food, so when time came, I ended up just going in blindly to the cafeteria and just letting chance take its course.

I don’t have a problem eating alone, but the benefit of a small school is that I never have to. Because even without making plans, I was always able to find someone to sit and eat with.

I was able to eat with new people who I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to and enjoy fresh conversations.

The next striking thing about dining was the fact that without the safety net of a phone, I was always geared towards speaking and sparking more conversations. Other people would tune out of the dialogue or immediately grab their phone when awkward silences ensued, but I could not hide away in the safe zone of my own realm of individuality. I had to sit on what felt like, the outside of a cage, as I watched the rest of my peers involved in their own personal worlds, away from what was actually happening.

I, of course, was just like this too, and still would have been if it wasn’t for my luck of dropping my phone.

But I mean that in a sincere way. Dropping my phone, physically and literally killing it was not only the perfect excuse—but just a life choice that should have been made earlier!

It’s only been a week, but the concept of constantly going on my phone to cutting it cold turkey in a matter of a split second is enough to dramatically change the maneuvers of everyday life.

During class now, there is no distraction or enticement to veer away from what’s being discussed. Of course, there are some classes that, no matter what, I still won’t pay attention (yes, I know: every parent’s nightmare. Whoops.) But even in those classes, I find a more productive way to spend my time (such as doing readings and homework for other classes, or work for extracurricular activities I’m involved with.)

While working out too, I no longer have a source of music to distract me from the "painful" excursions I’m embarking on (running for half an hour feels way longer when you don’t have music, I do not recommend doing that…)

The concept of time as well is just some foreign land. For example, I went to a play in the middle of the week, and in the past, I would always fidget and move around during a performance, because I can’t ever sit still but also because I had my phone. And there’s a building anxiety that comes about when you check your phone 12 times, and only four minutes has passed by.

During a two hour play, without my phone, I had no tug and pull feeling, I became entranced by the performance and even thought that it was only 45 minutes! To my surprise, it had actually been two hours long.

So yes technology is nice, and I’m not preaching on some existential crisis soap box about getting rid of all your electronics (because, let’s face it, in this day and age it’s necessary to have so you can be involved in the modern world.)

But at least taking a step back from the electrical haze of graphics and bombardment of ads and excessive messages, pointless conversations, dialogues, and distractions is beneficial for mental health and physical too—gotta give your eyes a break!

Although it may seem like the end of the world if you lose a phone, when it’s the next best thing you’ve got to a second brain, I believe it’s a blessing in disguise. A chance to take a more opportunistic look at life and a challenge to get more involved with people rather than half-assing communication through a sh*tty text. You can go out of your way to in person seek someone out, or put more effort into planning your daily schedule and, in a way, it’s extremely satisfying.

And, if anything—with the popularity of cell phone usage and constant internet brainwashing—it’s fun to go against the grain every once in a while and momentarily log out of social media, and "log in" to the real world.