It isn’t your fault. That is the first thing taught in recovery, and since we are discussing addiction, let’s start there. It isn’t exactly your fault that you feel tethered to the device in your pocket.
That glass square is designed to be irresistible. It provides stimulation when you’re bored, distraction when you’re anxious, and a foolproof way to avoid uncomfortable emotions. It acts as an upper, a downer, and an anesthetic all at once. It simulates social fulfillment so effectively that you may not realize you are starving for real connection—like a belly full of Styrofoam.
While the addiction is a result of design, it is your responsibility to address it if you want a better life. I have previously suggested that the best thing you can do for your creativity and humanity is to get rid of your smartphone entirely. However, I have since discovered a technique that is even more effective at cutting down screen time. It sounds a bit strange, but if a method is unconventional and it works, it’s worth using.
Naming the Distraction
This approach began when I committed to being off my phone around my young son. I wanted to prioritize connection and responsiveness, especially since children can sense when our attention is elsewhere. My son, in particular, expresses immediate resentment when I pick up my phone; he wants me present, and I can’t blame him. We all know the feeling of being with someone who suddenly retreats into their "portal to elsewhere," leaving us feeling ignored.
The most revealing part of this habit is the double standard: when others do it to us, it feels dismissive. When we do it, we tell ourselves "it’s different" or "it’s just for a second." To break this cycle, you must stop treating yourself like the main character in a world of background actors.
The Rules of the Game
The strategy I stumbled upon is simple: articulate exactly what you are doing on your phone out loud.
Whenever I pick up my device in front of my son, I narrate my actions: "Just a second, I’m telling your uncle we’re running late." Over time, I realized this made it nearly impossible to consume the mindless content the algorithm feeds me. To keep scrolling, I would have to say things like:
"Hang on, I'm just watching a video on 'attachment styles' that misuses every clinical term."
"I'm just watching an influencer perform a comedy skit I don't find funny."
"I'm reading a heated online argument about a topic I don't actually care about."
"I'm watching a video of a stranger washing a very dirty rug for a strange sense of satisfaction."
"I'm reading a 'Top 5' list of things I'm doing wrong as a parent, knowing it will only make me anxious."
When you say these things out loud, the absurdity of the "content" becomes clear. You can almost feel your focus eroding as you scroll. If you won't remember what you’re looking at an hour from now, it is a distraction, not a value.
Why It Works
Making it a habit to speak your actions aloud—whether you are alone or in company—forces intentionality. If you are in public and feel self-conscious about talking to yourself, remember: mindlessly staring at a screen while life passes you by is arguably more concerning.
This "trick" is especially effective for those with ADHD. Research suggests that neurodivergent individuals often have a less effective internal monologue for self-regulation. By moving that "thinking" to external speech, you bridge the gap between impulse and action. When the brain hears or reads words, it struggles to form its own independent thoughts. By narrating your phone use, you break the "trance" and create a natural off-ramp.
The Takeaway:
Articulating your digital behavior helps you act with intention. We don't always talk to ourselves well internally, but doing so externally works wonders. Use what works, no matter how unconventional it seems.
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