You’re reading The Confession which comes out on Fridays. Proceed with due caution.
I have an addiction to my phone.
When I’m feeling anxious, I feel the urge to go on my phone. When I’m feeling impatient, I want my phone to distract me. When I’m feeling upset, I know my phone can soothe me. When I’m feeling vulnerable, I want my phone to numb me. When I’m feeling bored, I want to fill the space with my phone. When my thoughts threaten to consume me, I need my phone to shut them up.
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Admitting that out loud makes me feel deep shame and loathing and vulnerability and ick and disgust for myself.
(maybe you should just flush me down the toilet and be done with it)
→ Maybe it’s because I set high standards for myself.
→ Maybe it’s because I know how much being present in the here and now is sucked from mindless scrolling.
→ Maybe it’s because I know how bad it is for our brains and yet I do it anyway.
→ Or maybe, it’s because I was raised in a family that never, under any circumstances, ever dared talk about “shameful” feelings or thoughts or addictions. And spoiler alert, that little child grows up into an adult who feels deep shame talking about certain feelings or thoughts or addictions.
Even now as I type these words I feel a weird energy descend over me like the mist on a Monday morning that swallows you whole and leaves you vulnerable and disoriented to the truth.
There are thoughts swirling in my mind, discoloring any shred of truth I thought I knew:
Am I a bad person?
Will I be seen as weak for admitting the thoughts here, publically?
What if I regret putting this out there and cannot get out of a shame spiral?
The bitch in my brain is screaming at me hard right now.
She wants me to tell you that I am a good person, that I only go on my phone for mostly valid reasons, that I deleted my TicTok, Instagram, and X apps 2 years ago, that I never go to bed with my phone, that I try to limit being on my phone when I’m in mom mode to be fully present with my daughter, that I never immediately check my phone in the morning, and that it’s not really my fault that I feel the ever-present urge to check my phone, to seek out that dopamine kick I crave.
And so I justify my phone usage. I try and convince myself I’m not addicted to my phone. And my need to numb my problems with instant gratification isn’t that big of a deal.
→ I just need to check my phone for work!
→ I just need to check my email to see if there’s something interesting I missed!
→ I just need to check my bank account because I need reassurance I’m not going to be out on the street tomorrow with a cardboard sign!
→ I just need to reward myself for my work by checking Pinterest!
→ I just need to check Substack for the billionth time to see if someone validated my shit!
→ I just need to check the weather app because that’s less crippling than living with overwhelming, cluttered thoughts in mind!
→ I just need to check my phone because what if my daughter’s school called and I missed it!
→ I just should probably check my bank account again because what if something CHANGED from the last time I checked it 37 minutes ago?
→ I just need to check my email again because it’s rewarding to search for something interesting in the vast landmine of my inbox!
→ I just need to check Slack from my phone and make sure I didn’t miss any work notifications!
→ I just need to check Substack again because something could have changed in the 4 minutes since I last checked!
→ I just need to check my phone because I get anxious if I feel like I missed a notification from the friends I don’t have!
→ I just need to check my weather app again because I’m 70 and must know the weather at all times and also cannot remember what it said from this morning!
Even now, my bitch brain is trying to convince me I’m not actually addicted to my phone.
She seductively whispers in my ear with her cherry-red lips and perfectly white teeth:
Sweetheart, you’re not addicted, you just check it a lot sometimes.
You have valid reasons for going on your phone!
Of course you’re going to check Substack a lot, you’re new there and still getting your bearings!
You can’t be addicted, you don’t even have TicTok or Instagram! You’re fine, trust me. <3
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And my lord I want that bitch to be right. I desperately want to believe her.
Because it’s deeply shameful for me to admit that I have an unhealthy relationship with my phone.
I fully believe that I am “less than” for that admission.
Or at least, a part of me fully believes that.
And right now, even right now… I feel the strongest urge to ESCAPE this uncomfortable moment by setting aside my laptop, scooting off the side of my bed I’m perched on, and do a guilty shuffle towards my phone where it’s sitting on the charger, double tap the screen and get that sweet, sweet release of dopamine as I hastily, secretly check Substack, then my email, then even my fucking work Slack channel. Only then would the aching urge be placated and I could focus again before doing it all over again in a little bit.
FUUUUUUUUCK ^THAT’S MORE DISGUSTING THAN TWO GIRLS ONE CUP CIRCA TWO-THOUSAND-AND-SEVEN. DAMN.
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The addictive urge I feel towards my phone is real. I want to check it often. I love the reward I get from notifications. I love the escape from the shit I don’t want to face.
In the moment, being on my phone and rewarded by dopamine whilst escaping my feelings feels like homemade chocolate ice cream on a porch swing during July or an orgasm before breakfast on a Saturday during a holiday to Spain or finding the perfect pair of jeans that make your ass look juicier than a ripe peach or watching Game of Thrones for the first time and falling in love with Jason Mamoa.
But it’s all a lie. A BLOODY FUCKING TAMPON-FILLED-WITH-BLOOD LIE.
There is no reality that exists this side of the Milky Way that allows you to outrun your problems, cure your insecurities or find inner peace by escaping to a screen to fill the void. Period.
To which my mind responds with:
FUCK A FAT WASHING MACHINE THAT RATTLES ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For all the self-help and real progress I feel I have made over the last couple of years, I humbly acknowledge that I have a long, long way to go before I reach the holy grail of inner peace and not trying to escape my uncomfortable feelings by numbing them with dopamine or validation that phone scrolling brings.
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So where do I go from here?
I don’t know. Hopefully not down a toilet pending the reception or crickets this post receives.
I just know that I have challenged myself for the entire month of June to EXPIREMNT with my writing... to truly, actually write the things I actually am feeling. And this? This is real shit. Big feels. Disgusting vulnerability.
A massive part of me is hoping I’ll get affirmative responses, some a fuck ton of “thank you for sharing this” or “you’re so brave!!” and “oof I feel addicted to my phone too, you’re NOT alone!”.
And also - a part of me will simply be relieved that I admitted this “dark thing” to TALK about this issue, openly, honestly, vulnerably.
Because if we can’t talk about it -admit it to ourselves- how will we ever change it?
Because, from my perspective, being on our phones too much robs us of the magic of living… of being present, of being at peace, of living in the joy that fills your heart vs. living for the validation of people who will never be able to fill the hole in our hearts.
Phone bashing aside, I don’t think the internet or social media is “inherently evil” and should be blocked forever from our lives.
But I do think that we have to take a serious look in the mirror and ask ourselves WHY are we going on our phones?
Is it for serving a purpose -or- purposefully numbing something you’re refusing to face?
When I’m feeling extra anxious, impatient, lacking self-love or inner peace (WHICH IS WAY MORE OFTEN THAN I’D LIKE TO ADMIT)… I desperately want the sweet release of numbing my senses in my phone.
And I fucking hate it.
Which is why I’m talking about it.
Because if I won’t admit that it’s a problem, I definitely won’t have a snowball’s chance in the devil’s warm left nut to change it.
Shame wants to keep me silent, but the spark of truth in my soul knows better.
This admission will make me stronger.
This admission will remind me I can do hard things.
This admission will help me give one less fuck the next time I’m scared to open up or do the thing I want to but am afraid because of what people will think of me.
This admission will help other people feel seen.
This admission will weaken the grip of shame in my life.
😌
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Whew.
Trust me, I’m fully aware that this “confession” probably feels quite trivial to some. And next to a heroin addiction, it is! And my bitch brain wants to be all “Whining about a ‘phone addiction’ is the most ridiculous, weak-ass thing you’ve done yet”.
But fuck it. I’m on a mission to normalize failure, so if this post “fails”, so be it. It will probably feel more painful than a 2.71” splinter to my lower lip, but the courage that I gain on the other end will be worth it.
Because if I want to live a life free from the addiction to my phone?
I have GOT to build my resilience skills.
I must CHOOSE to get comfortable being uncomfortable.
I need to PRACTICE building my self-love muscle.
End even though it might feel more vulnerable than getting naked at the Vatican and forgetting to shave my p- leg hairs… I’m committed to rooting for myself, throwing acid in the eyes of shame, and writing the shit that I want to write about.
And - I’m also committed to facing the fact that I do indeed have an unhealthy relationship with my phone. That it will take looking in the mirror and being open and honest with myself for the real reasons behind why that is. Asking myself what it is I cannot face, what I want to numb or avoid. Having compassion for the answers I find myself with. And being committed to walking this journey alongside myself. And celebrating that shame did not swallow me whole in the process of talking about this. Cannot emphasize that last point enough.
Now, excuse me while I go walk off a cliff and fall into a shower because I feel disgusting.
Just kidding. I’m probably going to scroll my phone. FML. 😂
And now, lastly, if this topic is something you can relate to… my hope is that you feel a little less lonely and a whole lot more seen.
-M
Thank you for reading until the end. 🙏 If this resonates with you, can you let me know?
Your shame bitch does the same sneaky shit my eating disorder bitch does. She's here for a visit and I am NOT ok with it lol
Yes it resonates. I notice my phone messing around gets way higher when I'm tired, sad or stressed (as does my food consumption). Conventionally slightly viewed better than alcohol and drugs but still filling a very similar need. Thanks for the confessional it was certainly something I can see in myself at times. I am finding some success in not taking my phone out of the house a lot as a very basic approach to cutting down it. Thanks for writing I just subscribed.