Our phones are no longer near us when we sleep, and it's wonderful.

Thoughts on a startlingly profound shift and defending ourselves from scary surprises.

Hello! Happy Unofficial Summer Kick-off Weekend! So, today’s post started off as this month’s Tyrannosaurus Recs, but then I had so much to say about one of the things I love—keeping my phone in a different room while I sleep—that I switched course and decided to make that the sole focus this week. Hopefully you weren’t waiting on my recs to influence any huge life decisions. 

In case I haven’t already made it clear, I am actively grappling with my phone use. Trying to slow our brains down is a big part of the intended ethos of everything I’m writing on here, including this poem from last month about phones disappearing, which unfortunately has yet to spur a magical mass phone-vanishing incident.

I write about this not because I’ve successfully changed all my habits, but because I want to. I’ve kept my phone screen black-and-white since 2018 (with the option to triple-click back to color when I’m looking at pretty things) to get rid of the vivid and addictive slot-machine colors. Has it helped? Kinda! A little. Maybe. I don’t know. Mostly it’s resulted in people saying, “Oh weird, why is your phone black-and-white?” Then I explain why, hoping maybe I’ll persuade them to do it too. Hasn’t happened yet!

But the reality is (and I know we’re all aware of this by now): these phones are addictive. They’re designed that way! And it’s not just social media I’m talking about. Especially when I’m tired, without even thinking, I will grab for my phone so many times. I stare down at the screen, seeing the same emails that were in my inbox three minutes ago, wondering what else I can tap on to soothe my addled brain. 

And you know what? I hate it.  

So, starting last weekend, Katie and I decided to leave our phones in the kitchen before we go to sleep every night. I’ve had small stretches of doing this in previous years, and inevitably I’ve found a reason one night to bring my phone with me into the bed, and the whole thing falls apart.

I don’t want it to fall apart this time.

Because after just five days, it’s been a startlingly profound shift. Before this week, I would often get in bed, intending to read a book, but instead just read a bunch of articles on my phone. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with articles. And essays. And substack posts!

But inevitably, my brain was bouncing around much more than if I’d immersed myself in a book instead. And of course I’m not just reading articles. The phone can never be just reading articles. If it could, it would just be a simple tool, and we wouldn’t be struggling so much. As I’m lying there, I’m also checking IG, or playing spelling bee, or responding to this text, or that email. I’m taking my whole damn life with me into bed. 

And, really, if I can’t create conditions for slow dopamine at bedtime, how hard am I actually trying to tackle this situation?

So, going to sleep has felt different this week. Reading a book every night has felt more restorative. But I also have been reminded of something else that’s wonderful: 

BOOKS DON’T HAVE SCARY SURPRISES IN THEM

When you’re about to sleep, you want anxiety to be reduced and calm restored. You know what’s not good for anxiety?

SCARY SURPRISES!

Sure, the exciting, even horrific, narrative twists and turns within a well-crafted novel are okay. Maybe you love true crime non-fiction, in which case there may be lots of scary stuff, but it won’t be a surprise. You chose to read about that at bedtime, and I respect your decision.  

The scary surprises I’m referring to are those inadvertent stumbles into a disturbing piece of breaking news. Or the random text or work email that sends your brain spiraling. Or the photo of yourself from ten years ago that your phone decides now would be a great time to show you.

That shit can throw off your entire night of sleep!

WE MUST DEFEND OURSELVES FROM THESE SCARY SURPRISES.

They can come in the middle of the night, too. That’s arguably worse, those nights when you’re up at 2 or 3 am and can’t sleep so you peek at your phone. Never mind all the facts we now know about the bright screen confusing our brain into thinking it’s daytime so it starts to wake up even more—do you really want to find a scary surprise during PEAK HUMAN ANXIETY HOURS? WHY ARE WE DOING THIS TO OURSELVES?

Actually, though, I’d say the more profound shift this week has come in the morning hours. When my phone is in the room, I wake up and…grab for the phone. Pretty much always. I’ll have a thought like, “I should let my brain wake up first,” but if the phone is there, that’s overruled with a “Nahhhhh” 9 out of 10 times.

So the day has barely started, I’m checking email, I’m looking at texts, doing Wordle, and my brain is already spinning the f*ck around!  

But if the phone’s not there…it just isn’t there. Nothing to grab.

So at some point every morning the kids bound into our room, we all chat and hang out, and they ask what the temperature is so they know if they can wear shorts or not, which usually would send Katie or me onto our phones, which usually would send us (or at least me) down a path of looking at other stuff on my phone, but now we just say: “We don’t know. We don’t have our phones.”

It’s such a fun thing to say!

And, like every other parent we know, we’re always trying to stay off our phones because we know we’re modeling this behavior for the kids, and how can we all get on our stupid high horses about no phones for kids while we’re on these things all the time? But turns out the best way I’ve found to stay off the phone around our kids is to not have access to our phones around our kids.

And here’s what’s been the weirdest part of this week: in the morning, when I get out to the kitchen where my phone is—I don’t feel that compelled to check it. I’ll look at my email and texts just to see if there’s anything vital, but I don’t immediately feel the urge to make the rounds of all my apps.

It’s almost like my brain has had time to wake up and get into a slower groove, which comes with some built-in willpower that I didn’t have first thing in the morning. There’s probably some actual science that can explain what’s happening, but suffice it to say, I’ve felt less drawn to my phone overall this week, and that’s been a non-scary surprise I really welcome. I just checked my phone screentime, and I have a daily average of 2 hours, 28 minutes. I’m normally at 3 to 4 (to 5).  

I know it’s very early in this routine shift. This could come crumbling down at any moment. But I write this now to maybe inspire you and to remind myself in the future of how good this felt.

If you feel yourself having that phone itch more than you’d like, this is somewhere to start. Get that thing out of your bedroom at night. Read a book. Defend from the scary surprises. And sleep the slow dopamine sleep of un-screened champions.

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Thank you as always for reading, my friends. Have a wonderful long weekend and I’ll see ya in your inbox next week.