There are a few essentials that are widely accepted as necessary for human survival: food, water, air, shelter and clothes. But in our digitally dense world, it would make sense to add another: smartphones. 

In the past six years, I’d never gone more than a day or two without my phone. Following me everywhere I went, it had essentially become an extension of me, something I felt complete with and panicked without. 

Checking my phone felt as natural as breathing, something rhythmic and necessary. Numbing my mind with dull and unfulfilling content was so ingrained into my routine that it would be hard to find a moment where I sat idly, not on TikTok. This strange obligation consumed me – removed me from intelligent thought and placed me in a zombified state. I didn’t like the way my phone controlled me, but I felt powerless to its tight grasp.

Like many other people, I suffered from a phone addiction that I was quite aware of and acknowledged to be a pressing issue in my life. However, the ordinary and ubiquitous nature of the addiction made me less keen to improve my situation; it seemed normal and almost acceptable to spend hours every day stunned by the glowing screen

My previous attempts at limiting screen time were pathetic, to say the least. They consisted mostly of short-lived promises to stay off my phone and productivity apps deleted within the week. Every failed attempt left me feeling defeated and more reluctant to try again.

But as the workload of junior year piled up, I felt this immense urgency to win my time back and improve my situation. After hearing about the ‘Luddite’ teens, I too sought to defamiliarize myself from the misguiding comforts of my phone.

My plan? A one-month trial where I swapped my smartphone for a flip phone and phone plan which limited its functions to SMS texting and calls; no internet, no games, no social media. 

After stowing my smartphone away and transferring only a few important contacts to my new flip phone, I felt an overwhelming sense of hope that I could actually begin unlearning a decade of bad technology habits.

I had originally anticipated that the phone withdrawal would be pretty unbearable near the beginning of the experiment, especially as I adjusted to the new interface. But contrary to my predictions, I felt little to no desire to access the more modern features of my smartphone. It stayed tucked away in my drawer for the duration of September.

In addition to the greater purpose of helping me gain independence from my smartphone, the whole flip phone experience was incredibly enjoyable. My friends and I had fun taking grainy pictures on its two-megapixel camera, laughing about its slightly unstable build and I quickly realized that for the small price of $15, the flip phone had virtually every essential function I’d need as a high school student. 

Even its inconveniences helped me connect with people more genuinely. The painstaking process of typing with a 12-button keypad encouraged me to call people instead of texting. I found these calls to be longer, more meaningful conversations that left me feeling satisfied and uplifted.

The biggest adjustment for me was being comfortable losing access to certain conversations and information. My inability to message groups chats or look things up instantly meant I was often out of the loop and had to catch details about certain information in person. But despite my original anxiousness about the situation, I found the lack of information bombarding me to be quite relaxing. 

The little flip phone, slipping nicely into my pocket, still followed me wherever I went, but I didn’t have nearly the pull on me that my old phone did. With my reclaimed hours, I finished work earlier and spent my free time resting or pursuing new and fulfilling hobbies. 

More than being productive, reclaiming my time was about backing my choices with intention and changing my idea of what entertainment looked like; recreation could have purpose beyond distracting me until the next chore. Drawing, napping and cooking a meal were more pleasurable than productive, but they also brought joy and satisfaction to my life in a way that instant gratification from a phone never could. I felt proud of my discipline and my dedication to finally following through on a promise I’d made and broken a dozen times before. 

When my phone plan expired I brought the smartphone back out, but this time, with a new mentality towards using it. I had always intended for the flip phone to be a temporary measure to help me establish enduring habits; and I had faith that the enjoyable, enlightening nature of my detox would deter me from the more addicting aspects of my smartphone, while still allowing me to use its superior function in a moderated fashion.

For now, I feel liberated from my phone, but only time will tell if this experience actually had a long-term effect on my behavior or just served as a short relief to my problem. What I can say with full honesty is that it was worth the $15 and awkward adjustment. I’ve learned that sometimes true progress comes with deliberate setbacks that help you appreciate what you have; that beating obsessive phone use is possible, even in our technology-saturated world; and most importantly, that we could all use a flip phone cleanse to remind ourselves that the convenience of phones should never undermine our ability to be present in our own lives.