(Continued from part two)

One of the hardest parts about fighting an addiction is that when you take away the addictive substance or behavior, you’re suddenly confronted by all the uncomfortable or even painful things you were avoiding. I had devised excellent strategies, and was getting better and better at forming them into habits. Still, at every step of the way, I’ve had to contend with withdrawal and craving of some sort. In addition to facing these cravings, I’m also having to squarely confront and deal with things that my compulsive scrolling and screen-dissociation were distracting me from: anxiety, discomfort, restlessness, disconnection, and so on. I’ve begun asking myself: when I am wanting to reach for my phone, what am I avoiding? What am I trying to distract myself from? What exactly am I craving?

Fake solutions to real problems

Ultimately, I’ve realized that, just like drugs, the phone doesn’t actually provide real solutions to any of these problems — it just offers pseudo-solutions that just increase the craving, because the actual need isn’t really being met. For example: Aside from simply distracting and stimulating me, social media — much like television — provides a comforting illusion of social interaction and connection. When I wanted to check Facebook or watch some YouTube videos, I wasn’t just looking for a hit of stimulation; I was trying to get the feeling of social connection from looking at pictures and videos of people talking, or by texting my friends, which is a poor substitute for actual socialization. When I’d feel powerless to resist the urge to go down the rabbit hole of a text message conversation with a friend, I wasn’t just being driven by the need for stimulation, but by a deeper need — the need for human connection.

For sure, modern technology provides us with the ability to connect with people from all over the world, without being limited by physical proximity. But does a text message conversation really scratch that itch? Does the convenience of texting really provide the same connection as a video chat or phone call, which is already inferior to actual in-person connection?

Similarly, another fundamental need I was trying to fulfill was the need for rest. And, just like with the need for social connection, the phone only gives a false promise of fulfillment. When I feel tired and want to get a hit of dopamine from my phone, I’m correctly intuiting that I need some sort of a recharge, whether from stimulation or actual rest. Flopping down on my bed and scrolling through an endless stream of audio-visual hyper-stimulation seems like something that would be restful and energizing, but it always leaves me feeling depleted, like a caffeine crash. What if, in these moments of needing rest, I actually rested, by taking a nap, meditating, or even just lying down with my eyes closed for a bit? What if I did something actually energizing, like engaging with creative projects or eating a nutritious snack?

My screen use was also helping me to avoid executive function. ADHD is, in a nutshell, a deficiency of executive functioning skills. When I was faced with a task requiring significant executive functioning, I sometimes just shut down from feeling overwhelmed, and would escape into screen-land. Scrolling on the internet is a devilishly seductive siren for the ADHD brain, because it’s basically the opposite of executive functioning — it’s free-form, flowing, and exploratory. It not only avoids what is hard for us, but it provides what our brains love to do — open-ended wandering. But, to my chagrin, avoiding something doesn’t make it go away.

Finally, I’ve noticed that my screen use is often covering up some form of deficiency in my life. If I’m compulsively scrolling subreddits about my favorite interests, am I not giving myself enough time throughout the day to read, research, and engage with my interests in a healthy manner? If I’m compulsively watching music-related videos on Instagram, do I not have enough positive musical engagement in my life?

The false promise of satisfaction

As I try to overcome my addiction, I notice how slyly the phone whispers false promises and temptations in my ear, to trick me into thinking that I actually want to stay engaged. “Curiosity is good,” it says. “You’re learning,” it reassures me, as I scroll endlessly through Reddit forums. “You need to rest; this will help you recharge,” it says, as I flop down onto my bed to avoid whatever I should be doing. “Socialization is healthy,” it tells me, as I chat with friends instead of attending to my tasks. And maybe the most alluring and the least truthful promise of all: “once you find what you’re looking for, you’ll be satisfied.”

This is the phone’s version of “once you get to the bottom of the bag of chips, you’ll be satisfied,” or “once you finish this glass of wine, you’ll have had enough.” With the internet, there literally is no bottom. It’s like an infinite bag of chips that keeps replenishing itself even though you could swear that you’re close to the bottom. And even if you do find what you’re looking for — the answer to a question, a match on a dating app, a friend’s reply to a text you sent — there’s always more. There’s always an alluring link to related questions; there are always more potential matches a swipe away; there are always more things to talk about with your friend (or more memes to send). And it never ends. There is no bottom.

The false promise of satisfaction must be met with the understanding that there is absolutely no end to this thing. The beast is never satisfied. The satisfaction you’re looking for lies in the freedom gained by calling off the search for ultimate satisfaction. It is the nature of junk food to be inherently unsatisfying while at the same time being incredibly appealing. But the satisfaction we crave by eating more and more chips will never be reached by finally eating “just enough chips.” It will only be reached by eating real food.

So, my ultimate weapon for fighting this beast is calling it out on its tricks. I am learning to recognize the truth of its ultimate bottomlessness and unsatisfactoriness, to recognize the need I’m trying to meet, and to nourish that need in the real world, in healthy ways. Without addressing these psychological and emotional motivations for phone overuse, all the hacks and strategies will ultimately collapse under the weight of our unmet needs.

Tasting freedom

Now, all of these restrictions and strategies may sound extreme. But I’ve implemented all of them gradually, one step at a time, by slowly building the habits. The peace, freedom, and empowerment I feel now is worth all the sacrifice.

So, where am I now in my journey? I’d say I am in a pretty good place, although there’s still work to be done. My healthy habits have become more ingrained. While I still slip sometimes, it’s now the exception rather than the rule when I use my phone in bed or get sucked into a deep rabbit hole. I’m getting more and more used to my phone having a physical “place,” and distinct times for use. I’m becoming more accustomed to using the internet as an external tool, not as an appendage. And like an alcoholic who is always “recovering” and never “recovered,” I remain ever vigilant of the addictive potential. 

I also realize the mistake of being too strict with myself. I’m not trying to become a complete luddite. While part of me is attracted to the idea of going back to the 1980s and replacing my laptop with a typewriter and swapping out Spotify for a cassette player, I do remain appreciative of the ways in which modern technology makes my life better, not just worse.

I am, however, wary of the further encroachment of the virtual world with new technologies like ChatGPT, VR headsets, smart watches, and smart glasses. In my more pessimistic moods, I envision the future of humanity like the scene in Wall-E where sedentary blobs ride around in hover-chairs, oblivious to the world around them, only engaging with the screens permanently fixated in front of their faces. (We may not in fact be too far from this.)

So, my general guiding philosophy is, as I mentioned earlier, to keep screens as external tools, not appendages. I have an Android, but I don’t want to ever become an android. The virtual world is somewhere I can visit, not somewhere I want to live. Both literally and metaphorically, I want my devices to have their place.