The Sound of Silent: How Losing Your Phone Can Improve Your Mood (Once the Initial Agony Wears Off)

There’s a horrifying panic that descends on those who lose their phones—even for a few moments. The frantic search which results in a hiding spot that leaves us questioning the validity of our memory, if not our very sanity. I was particularly afflicted with this condition, and my memory is not to be relied upon even on the best of days (I believe due to the vast variety of medications I’ve ingested throughout the years).

I would flounder around the house, digging through laundry baskets and upturning bins thinking, “It’s got to be here somewhere.” More than once, I’ve considered sticking a tracking device like a Tile onto it for peace of mind. But despite the many, many times I’ve “lost” my phone, it was always within the four walls that surrounded me. I always felt like Bilbo Baggins whenever he lost the One Ring—his terrified look that it might be gone forever—only to find that it was nestled safely in his pocket the whole time.

Why do people get so upset and panicked when they lose this precious possession? I think we all know at this point that humanity has become a slave to their mobile electronic devices. As I sit writing this, my nephew (who I get to see maybe once a year if I’m lucky) is sitting across from me playing on his iPad and hasn’t said more than 10 words to me since he arrived at my house 3 hours ago.

It’s a fact that our phones and tablets give us a constant stream of dopamine which we’ve become increasingly, exponentially, addicted to. So it’s little wonder why they hold so much sway over us, our emotional wellbeing seemingly tied to their placement in our hands.

You’ve heard the wellness videos and articles which describe the necessity of limiting “Screen Time.” They’re not lying to you when they say that getting away from your devices is beneficial in a multitude of ways. I’m not here to give you the list of pros to turning off your phone. This information is so readily available it’s almost become a cliché.

I am here to tell you that intentionally losing your device could be a stress-relieving, mood-improving, spiritual experience which takes you out of your everyday woes and guides you into a more peaceful state of mind.

Now doesn’t that sound better than some aimless scrolling to feel a momentary hit of happiness?

LOST, BUT ALSO FOUND

I discovered this magical state through a very unique and yet totally contrite event. I lost my phone, as I had done so many times before. I searched high and low for at least 25 minutes without success. My computer wasn’t working at the time and I was alone, so I had no way of utilizing Find My iPhone or calling it. The first 15 minutes I was panicked, but the next 10 minutes were just a seething anger at myself for not being able to find the damn thing. I sagged down onto the couch, exhausted, and muttered, “Fuck it.” I walked away and called off the search, and decided to do something very intentional with my time instead of scrolling mindlessly through social media.

I journaled, I finished a lesson on discovering my spirituality, and I did some intense and much-needed soul-searching. It was one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a long time, and it wouldn’t have been possible without my ability to separate myself wholeheartedly and, ultimately, willingly from my phone.

Knowing it was in the house somewhere but leaving it up to a higher power to give it back to me when it was time. It did return itself when I had finished my little spiritual retreat—it was right where I had left it, of course, underneath a thin blanket on the couch cushion next to where I had sat and given up the search. This was the Universe’s little joke, to have hid the obstacle to my betterment in so obvious a place, and somewhere I definitely remembered having looked before, until I had utilized my time in a more productive, introspective way.

RESULTS THAT SPEAK VOLUMES

A great way to start practicing this method of self-implemented “No Screen Time” would be to allow it to happen organically. The next time you lose your phone, simply don’t look for it. There are times when you’ll really need it (maybe to call someone in an emergency or as you’re running out the door for an appointment), in which case it would not be the best time to try this exercise. But if you are just going about your day and you’ve lost that sacred rectangle, follow these steps to attain peace.

1)     Stop searching.

2)     Take a deep breath.

3)     Let it out slowly.

4)     Repeat as needed until you have a “fuck it” attitude.

5)     Go about your business and see what things you can accomplish for yourself.

I promise you’ll never regret the time you lost scrolling through social media or emails in favor of taking a few hours for yourself.

Losing your phone is a wonderfully satisfying practice. The more you realize the types of things you can achieve by breaking free of that need, the more you’ll start losing your phone on purpose. I do it all the time, and it drives my husband bonkers.

Jer: Babe, where is your phone?

AK shrugs unconcernedly.

AK: I dunno.

Jer: Don’t you think you should find it?

AK: Eh.

AK goes back to reading her book as Jer searches frantically for AK’s phone.

Of course it’s important to be connected in our relationships, but not to the degree of what popular culture would have you believe. I only consider about 7% of the relationships I have to be “close” relationships, and I have struggled mightily in the past with what normal people would consider to be “urgent” conversations. Not everything is urgent. Not every text needs to be answered immediately. Not every email requires a 24-hour response time. This might ruffle some feathers to your acquaintances, but the people who know and love you most aren’t going to begrudge you taking a few hours longer to respond.

Sometimes ignoring your phone is the only barrier to taking care of yourself.

Trying to find that peaceful place between the frantic need to find a phone and finding truths about your soul is a journey that may be frustrating at first, but leads to the empowering realization that you can survive without your ringer on… and beyond is a world you’ve been setting aside for far too long.