The Digital Takedown: Reclaiming My Time from the Everything Machine

Sci-fi writers of the 1940s and 1950s predicted everything from living on the moon to robot maids. I’m not sure whether any of them imagined a portable device that would allow us to access the sum of human knowledge instantly, but I’m fairly certain they didn’t factor in the part where the device chirps at us like a demanding budgie while we are trying to find the perfect candle for the coffee table.

I went shopping with a friend recently, a bit of retail therapy, followed by coffee and cake in a cosy café. I wanted to buy candle with a smell suitable for cold winter evenings at home, which involves me sniffing every candle on the shelf, including one called “Midnight Rain” (which actually smells like damp pavement. I didn’t buy that one).

Suddenly, in my middle of my incessant candle sniffing, my pocket started bleeping. A WhatsApp message. I heard it, felt it, and ignored it. It bleeped again, and again. Each time, I felt that little digital tug on my leg, a demanding “look at me!” I acknowledged it mentally but kept my hands firmly on the candles.

My friend, however, was becoming increasingly agitated on my behalf. “You’ve got a message,” she whispered, as if I might have missed the high-pitched electronic trill. By the third bleep, followed by the distinctive “ping” of a Facebook notification, she wasn’t just being helpful; she was irritated. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t stop everything to check the screen.

In our pre-digital world – the world of landlines and beige plastic buttons – if someone wanted me, they rang the house phone. If I wasn’t there, they left a message or just tried again later. There was no expectation of an instant response.

Somehow, we have transitioned into a culture where we are expected to be available 24/7. But as I look toward a simpler way of living, I am gently resigning from that particular job.

The Great Consolidation

Do you remember when the first iPhone launched? It was marketed as a revolutionary “three-in-one” device: an iPod, a mobile phone, and an internet communicator. The idea was pure utility. Carrying one gadget instead of three? Absolute magic.

Then came the cameras, the GPS, and the apps. Now, my phone is my bank, my map, my library, my fitness coach, and my bird-identifier. It’s a calculator, a scanner, and occasionally, it’s even useful for making phone calls! It is an amazing piece of technology: the stuff of dreams in the past – and we are so, so lucky to have them.

But if we are honest, what do most of us spend our time doing? We spend it scrolling. We read the same headlines five times a day, watch videos of cats and babies we’ll never meet, and give our precious attention to strangers while the people we actually love are sitting right across the table from us.

Choosing Intentionality

In my quest to live lightly, I’ve realised that clutter isn’t just the rusty nails in the garage or the instruction manuals for a toaster I threw out in 2012. It’s also the digital noise that fills the gaps in my day.

If I am going to retire well, I need to decide who I want to be. Do I want to be the person who responds to notification within thirty seconds while I’m trying to enjoy a quiet Saturday afternoon sitting in the garden reading a book? Or do I want to be the person who is present in the moment, choosing the next chapter of my life intentionally rather than out of habit?

I’m starting a journey toward Pocket Zen. It’s not about throwing the phone in the bin – I still need my banking apps and my bird-song identifier, after all. It’s about learning to use the phone as a tool, rather than letting it use me as an audience.

I’m going back to the “old days.” If I am occupied, the message can wait. I’ll get back to you when I am available, not just because there was a ping in my pocket. It’s surprisingly empowering to leave it unanswered. It’s a small way of saying that my time, especially as I head into this new chapter of life, belongs to me.

(And in case you’re wondering about the messages I ignored – they were from my daughter, photos of my 4-year-old grandson helping her make a cake. Nothing that needed more than a heart emoji, and nothing that couldn’t wait. And the Facebook ping was to remind me that I had an item on Facebook marketplace that hasn’t sold yet.)

Come with me on this journey as we learn to control and use our phones instead of letting them control us. I’ll be posting more on the ‘Pocket Zen’ philosophy and my ‘Digital Takedown’ soon. Subscribe to my free newsletter to find out how you too can take back control from the tiny tyrant in your pocket and reclaim your time for the things that truly matter.

Photo by Paul Hanaoka on Unsplash