I want to chuck my iPhone into a lake and never see it again. Seriously, I’d love to never again feel the social pressure to reply within a certain timeframe on a digital device, just because it happens to be within arms reach.
This isn’t a new feeling. I’ve written about it before — back in 2013, twice, in fact. And yet, here I am, eleven years later, still tethered to the same kind of device and ecosystem. I didn’t throw the phone into a lake back then, though I tried a few approaches to break free. Every time, I landed back in Apple’s world. So yet to have done the phone chucking…
But today, this urge feels different. Instant communication is more intense than ever. You send a text, and if the person doesn’t reply within five minutes, your mind starts racing. “Did I upset them? What’s happening? Is the world falling apart?” Sound familiar? I’d bet past trauma is at the root of it for all of us but we are quite good at ignoring those signals, aren’t we?!
After my head injury, I was introduced to emotions I wasn’t used to — like worry and stress. The old me wasn’t much of a worrier or too stressed. I lived life, tried things, and if they didn’t work, I moved on. But the head injury messed with that. I started over-communicating to prove I was okay, which only created more stress. The snowball effect was real, and suddenly, I was shaking when I’d see an email or a text come through. Communication became the hardest thing to handle post-accident, but I made sure you did not know or notice.
This anxiety trickled into every part of my life — family, friendships, dating — even something as trivial as dating apps. So, when I say I want to chuck my phone into a lake, I mean it. I’m done being a servant to a device and the relentless communication that’s rarely life or death.
Things shifted when my accident lawsuit finally closed. The weight was lifted, and I felt free — free to write this journal, free from the constant pressure to respond instantly. And while I still believe in replying, does it have to happen right now? No. That’s something I’m learning to navigate, especially with friends and dating. Dating apps are a whole other beast. Instant responses are the norm, and if you hesitate, the person on the other end moves on. Zero patience. No time to actually get to know someone. It’s frustrating, but that’s a topic for another day.
Before the accident, my desire to disconnect from devices was mostly about rejecting Apple’s ecosystem. But after the accident, it became about something deeper. Being less tethered to tech has been life-changing. Maybe it sounds silly, but when you work in tech and advertising for as long as I have, you’re always plugged into what’s next. Now, my friend Cole keeps me in the loop about the latest tech, and honestly, it feels good not to be “the guy” anymore. But I’m still trying to figure out why I feel this need to disconnect when I’ve already distanced myself from the everyday city life I once lived.
That’s probably why I’m writing this journal — to get these thoughts out and maybe hear from you. How do I break free from the iPhone? Sure, it sounds easy — just change it, right? But my work comes through iMessage, and some of my family only uses FaceTime. There are alternatives, sure, but how do I make them part of my world? That’s what I’m hoping to figure out. One day, one day my friend.
Reading through my old notes, I realize I’ve been a slave to both myself and society. In 2018, I tried breaking free with a Google Pixel, and I loved the experience. It didn’t quite give me the minimalism I craved, but it freed me from Apple’s chains — until work pulled me back. I had to get an iPhone again, or I’d miss out on important conversations. How absurd is that? I realize now that I was weak then, and I still am in some ways. But it’s okay — it’s on me to find the solution.
It’s been a while since I’ve written here, and part of that is because this summer was a whirlwind. Writing felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. But here I am, still thriving, still figuring it out.
To whoever reads this, thank you for being part of my journey. I appreciate you.
— cb