I was riding the bus the other day and there was a young couple sitting in front of me. Probably early twenties. Both had earbuds in. Both were engrossed in their phones. Not even for one second did they genuinely engage with each another. The girl looked disassociated from reality, and the guy was lost in his phone. The only moment they ‘connected’ was when the guy showed the girl something on his phone. It’s the most bizarre thing to witness, and it’s sad. Really, really, sad. I see it everywhere now. So many people are only partly living in the real world. Their phones consume them, eaten their soul. Their phones own their very being, their existence is beholden to these inanimate objects with milions of bright-coloured pixels powered by distraction and greed. 20 years ago, when these people were in nappies, you would have been openly called out for even having earbuds in while talking to someone, let alone being completely disconnected from the conversation and on your phone. We used to make fun of the guys that had those Bluetooth earpieces. How times have changed.
On a brighter note…
One of the most heartwarming outcomes of this experiment was its effect on my relationships, particularly between me and my children. The absence of a phone in my hand meant a presence of mind and heart that hadn’t been fully there before. I always did my best to keep away from my phone when my kids were around, but this past year really solidified it. My daily logs showed a concerted effort to be present. For many days in my journal, I answered the question “Was I present and mindful throughout the day?” and by late 2024 the answer was often a satisfying yes. My conscious focus translated into tangible improvements in family life.
I wrote more about my kids in my journal—funny things they said, small victories, concerns and feelings. Whereas before much of my writing centered on my own stresses. For example, I noted how my middle daughter’s anxiety symptoms improved when I spent more one-on-one time with her (rather than giving her an iPad). With the phone down, I was available to play, to listen, to laugh. My kids, sensing they had my full attention, responded positively. There were fewer tantrums at bedtime, more cooperative homework sessions, and generally a calmer household rhythm. On a weekend in July 2024, I reflected: “1. Was I present and mindful throughout the day? – Yes, took the girls to the playground and left my phone at home. We had a blast.” This simple act of leaving the phone behind became a habit on weekend outings.
Beyond building up my kid’s and my relationships, I also nurtured other bonds. I had more meaningful face-to-face conversations with friends (often initiated by actually meeting up instead of chatting via text). In fact, in mid-2024 I was making many excuses to socialise without screens – something I hadn’t done in years. It’s not perfect, but it’s an improvement! Social media detox meant some contacts faded, but those that mattered found new channels: old friends started calling on the phone or arranging lunches. I mentioned a “coffee chat with an old colleague” in my journal that likely wouldn’t have happened if I’d been busy commenting on Facebook posts, or whatever garbage instead.
It’s worth noting that not all my relationship dynamics were immediately smooth – the change did require adjustment. Family members initially were surprised (“Are you OK? You’re usually on your phone,” a friend joked when I actually paid attention during a gathering). I was writing “clarifying emails,” instead of shooting off reactive texts, which I credit to a clearer mind due to less phone stress.
The data itself didn’t “measure” my relationships, but my journal is full of indirect indicators: achievements like my daughter ordering food on her own, notes about reading more bedtime stories, tags like #bonding and #presence started appearing. One particularly touching entry around Christmas 2024 describes how my kids and I sat around with holiday music on – “no devices, just us” I wrote. In that moment I realised how far I’d come from the previous year, when I might have been half-engaged, scrolling through work emails under the table. Now, I was there. Present.
Overall, being less absorbed in a screen made me more absorbed in the lives of those around me. It resulted in a richer fabric of relationships – with my kids most of all – woven with attention and care. I remarked a few times that this experiment’s greatest gift was that my kids got “more of their dad” and I got to truly know them better. It’s a poignant reminder that the minutes we reclaim from our devices can be given to the people we love.
Our time is finite. Use it well.