No phone on Sundays
It feels like living for years in a haunted house, only realising that things can be different when you finally step outside the front door.
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I never switch my phone off.
In the cinema or on an airplane, I put it in flight mode. My phone battery rarely dips below 10%. It’s only out of action when installing a software update (during which I, like a fretting mother, constantly lean over to check on my rectangular block baby, attached to its charger for life support.)
From grocery lists to social media, my phone is the control centre of my life. It’s my main link to my online bank, messaging apps, notes, the portal for booking my gym classes. It has replaced many objects I used to own; it’s my alarm clock, my map, my calculator. It’s my newspaper and weatherperson. It’s an encyclopaedia and a teacher rolled into one; 22-year-old me learned how to bleed the radiators in my east London flat from a random guy on YouTube.
And of course, there’s social media. My phone is where I curate the digital version of myself that I show to the world. I use apps like Instagram to connect with others — all while trying my best to escape endless advertisements, sponsored content and rage bait that has spilled over from TikTok.
Don’t get me wrong: having all of these use cases and entertainment opportunities compacted into a single tiny device is, in many ways, marvellous. But lately I’ve found myself wondering: where is the line between usefulness and dependency? Orchestrating my entire life from my phone has become so normal that I no longer remember how it feels to be without it.
I love conducting experiments in my own life (my most recent one was trying to avoid ultra processed foods for a whole month, which you can read about here). While I have done extended social media breaks before, I never did a phone break. For the month of October, I challenged myself to have no phone on Sundays. For a whole month, I would turn my phone off from Saturday night until Monday morning.
Of course, I knew that I could “survive” 24 hours without my phone; I wouldn’t be breaking out in a cold sweat because I can’t read my notifications. However, I was curious to see how my life would change. Would it become more difficult, more boring, or — possibly — more interesting?
Sunday 6th October
I’m off to a great start — I completely forgot about the experiment on Saturday night. I wake up, clean the kitchen and spend about 20 minutes on my phone reading Substack posts before realising that my phone should be switched off. I immediately learn the first lesson about having no phone: it’s crucial to plan in advance. I hastily forwarded my wife the recipe for that night’s dinner — which was sitting in my phone’s browser — and switch it off. I also realise that without my phone I don’t have an alarm clock for the next day. Feeling increasingly frustrated at my poor planning, I make a note to order one.
Despite the experiment being off to a rocky start, this was the perfect day to ease myself into having no phone. I have the flu so I’m not planning to leave the house. I’m starting the game on easy mode 👾
Later, I use the iPad to view tonight’s dinner recipe, which weirdly feels like cheating.
Mentally, I’m quite scattered. My phone lies lifeless on the table. Several times I pick it up when I walk past it, tapping fruitlessly at the screen before remembering that it’s off. The day before, I had met up with a friend and told them I would update them about something the next day. Now, I can’t do that and I worry that they will think I’m forgetful. I carry this thought with me throughout the day, my low-level anxiety humming like a fridge. My phone’s silence softly threatens me with FOMO and potential misunderstandings all day long.
Aside from that, my day is pretty boring because I spend most of it lying sickly on the couch honking into tissues. I’m not struck with any earth-shattering revelations.
Sunday 13th October
This week I’m more on top of things. I turn my phone off on Saturday night. Before I do so, I make sure to inform a few people that I won’t be reachable. I also double check that I have enough money on my debit card.
Waking up without an alarm is one of the greatest treasures of modern life. I get a solid eight and a half hours and rise feeling wonderful. I use the iPad to check the trusty recipe I use for sourdough focaccia, which is cracking me up because I never use the iPad but now it feels like my usage has spiked about 200%.
Today we’re meeting a few friends to see the Union Berlin women’s team play a match against Frankfurt. The match is taking place in Stadion An Der Alten Försterei in Köpenick, a beautiful and historic football stadium located in the middle of the woods in east Berlin, far from the city centre. Fun fact: Linkin Park once played a gig there!
As it is so far away, I wouldn’t have an inkling of how to get to the stadium without CityMapper. My wife (who isn’t taking part in the experiment) acts as my guide. She also has to buy me a ticket on the BVG app, because that is what I use to buy bus and tram tickets. I can’t bring my AirPods for the journey, but instead of getting lost in our devices, my wife and I chat the entire way.
Today is the day where I begin ✨realising things✨
Because my head isn’t bent downwards towards my phone, I notice architecture near the bus stop that I’ve never seen before despite living in the area for over four years. I realise that I rarely look up when I’m walking on the street.
I realise just how often I have the urge google random things and how frequently my phone scratches this itch for knowledge. Now, all of the fleeting questions that enter my mind are unanswered. What’s the temperature in Edinburgh this time of year? What’s the IMDB rating of the film Rien à Foutre starring Adèle Exarchopoulos? What’s the difference between clear and cloudy honey — is clear honey just refined cloudy honey, or are they different types of honey? It feels strange to just let these thoughts go.
Mentally, I feel very relaxed and happy. I am present with my partner and my friends and I watch the match without any distractions. I would have loved to take a photo of the cool stadium, but just like the random questions popping into my mind, I let this urge melt away too.
Sunday 20th October
My new alarm clock finally arrived! I haven’t had an alarm clock since I was about fifteen and I am obsessed with it.
I wake up feeling focussed. I have a bunch of life admin to get through, and I manage to blaze through all of my tasks by mid morning. We’re having a chill Sunday at home today, so I spend the rest of the day writing, cooking and reading. I decide to stop wearing my Apple Watch as it is rendered near useless by my phone being off. I float through the day with a Christmas-esque feeling of having absolutely no idea what time it is and also not caring.
This week, after turning my phone off on Saturday evening I tuck it away in my bedside table. This was another important lesson of going phoneless: you shouldn’t just turn your phone off, but also put it out of sight completely. Did you know that your phone can reduce your cognitive abilities literally just by being there? (I wrote about this topic here.)
I start to experience what I can only describe as a feeling of serene yet balanced detachment. Without my phone, I don’t think about other people too much, nor do I obsess about myself. Spending a lot of time online allows mini daggers to pierce your soul all day long. Social media and the internet somehow reinforce the negative stories you tell yourself about what you don’t have yet, what you haven’t achieved yet and who you can’t help. It feels like living for years in a haunted house, only realising that things can be different when you finally step outside the front door.
Sunday 27 October
It’s the last phoneless Sunday of the experiment, and today I face my biggest challenge: I have to travel to a friend’s apartment. I haven’t been to her place recently, so the exact location is foggy. Worse still, she lives fifty minutes away. On Saturday I check the way on CityMapper and study Google Maps because her apartment is a bit of a walk from the closest station. I actually feel nervous about being able to make it, particularly choosing the right exit and which direction to walk in once I’m back at street level.
I need to be at my friend’s place at 10am, so I’m up early. This is when I notice another interesting habit I’ve developed due to my phone. I usually check the Weather app to see what the temperature is and if it will rain before getting ready. My phone is off, and I forgot to check the weather the day before. I then realise — I can just step outside and look at the sky and make a judgement. I even have a balcony, but I never do this. How odd that I never feel the weather by… actually stepping outside to feel it for myself?
The journey to my friend’s place is really interesting. Firstly, as I’m travelling alone, I don’t have anyone with me to buy a ticket for me on the app. I buy a physical train ticket at the ticket machine for the first time ever in my four years in Berlin. Funnily enough, I notice it’s more expensive than buying a ticket on the app. When I exit the underground station, it takes me a second to get my bearings. I actually look at the position of the sun in the sky and make an educated guess by looking around. Figuring out that I am indeed walking the right way gives me a huge boost of confidence. This may sound silly, but I’m quite insecure about my orientation skills and rely on apps heavily to get around. I now see that this might just be a story which I told myself enough times until it became true. Perhaps I should spend more time refining my intuitive internal compass.
I cross a bridge and stop to look out over the water. The scene looks like a painting. Trees rusted with autumn colours border the black canal as swans slice their way through the calm water. I take a few minutes to drink in the pure romance of life.
Overall, the journey runs without a hitch! I spend the day with Tuğba Avci working on a joint creative project (more on that soon 🤫) and leave at about 4pm.
Two fifty minute journeys without AirPods or a book feel like quite a long stretch of time. My thoughts run deeper than usual. Memories from years ago trickle into my psyche as I sit on the rattling train, and I find myself looking at them with a fresh perspective. My mind feels as if it has more space, like an open field or a towering cathedral.
Another interesting observation: two people ask me for directions that day. I can’t help but think I am more approachable because my head isn’t bent downwards, tip tapping as I walk or wait. Or maybe these people or versions of them have approached me before, but I walked past them, my AirPods creating a barrier between me and the outside world?
As I emerge from the train station to walk back to my apartment, a light autumn rain begins to fall. I’m wearing a woollen jacket with no hood. I would usually be wound up at this point about getting caught in the rain and my hair frizzing. Instead — and this might sound melodramatic — I start having an almost transcendent moment where I want to cry. I am filled with a pure, childlike happiness that I haven’t felt in a while. I feel happy for no reason — not because I finished a project, not because I’m flying to Tokyo, not because I passed a test. I’m happy because life is beautiful and I can really feel the chaotic beauty of it vibrating around me.
And then, the weirdest thing happens: I compose a poem in my head as I am walking. I whisper it under my breath as I walk and write it down once I get home:
I find this so interesting because even though I write a lot, I never write poetry. I can’t help but feel that this wouldn’t have happened if I was rushing about with my AirPods shoved in my ears listening to Charli’s brat remix album for the zillionth time (as much as I cherish it).
That evening, I eat dinner with my partner and we play GTA San Andreas together. Now, I know what you’re thinking — girl, isn’t going from composing poems to playing GTA a bit of a curveball? To that I say: I actually find old video games weirdly wholesome and relaxing. Simpler graphics, simpler times.
Reflections
It was really fun to challenge myself to ditch my phone. The lingering feeling that stays with me after this experiment is that phones are great tools, but they pull our attention away from “real life” and place borders on our thoughts.
There’s something about leaving your phone away — properly — that expands the mind. Without the device as a crutch, you begin to learn things about yourself that you thought you couldn’t do and move beyond self-limiting beliefs. Things begin to pour out of your subconscious that you didn’t even realise were there.
I also learned that not every fleeting question or thought needs an instant answer. In today’s hyper connected and over-informed world, there’s something almost meditative about choosing not to know.
I’m still going to use my phone, but I’ve decided to try and keep a phone-free day in my weekly routine. I’m sold 💗
What about you — would you be open trying a phone free day?
I LOVE this Caoilainn - I totally know that euphoric emotional feeling you got too. Being without the old phone really does allow some raw emotions to come through. I think this is why I always have my deepest thoughts and clarifying moments on flights!
This is an amazing share. I’ve also started recently trying a no phone Saturday and find myself craving that time throughout the week. Your words skillfully captured some of the same experiences I had - for example the random poetry pop ups!