Madeline Murphy: “Do I Own My Smartphone, or Does It

Do I Own My Smartphone, or Does It Own Me?

Madeline Murphy

As I sit writing this reflection, my phone buzzes in what seems like an attempt to win my attention. Its bright screen is practically irresistible, and I struggle to avoid picking it up. I tell myself, I’ll just respond to this text message. However, responding to a text turns into checking my email, checking my email turns into scrolling through a Target advertisement, and before I know it, I am hopelessly lost in the never-ending world that is the internet. After regaining control, I become frustrated with myself. How can this seemingly harmless device have such a stranglehold on my life? This frustration is soon followed by an overwhelming sense of self-doubt; I ask myself why I can’t be as disciplined as a strive to be. When I was a child, I was significantly more focused and diligent, rarely struggling to finish my schoolwork. At the time, the two most prominent distractions in my life were playing outside and reading the latest young-adult novel, both of which I would consider somewhat enriching. My phone, on the other hand, brings me far less joy and adrenaline than these childhood pastimes, but is considerably more addictive. I think part of the reason for this is because my books never sent notifications reminding me to read them, and because the playground was not present on my bedside table. Upon this realization, part of me wishes I did not own a smartphone. Without its engrossing screen, I might be more like my younger self. However, that conclusion is far too simple for this multifaceted problem. As technology continues to develop, it becomes increasingly difficult for anyone, much less a college-aged student like myself, to live a wireless life. Without a phone, it would be nearly impossible to stay in touch with family and friends; I would surely lose touch with people I care about. Additionally, much of my schoolwork is completed online, and professors frequently send email updates regarding their classes. Choosing to rid all technology from my life would make academic success decidedly more challenging. Perhaps worst of all, I would lose opportunities for work and my future career since so much of the business world has become virtual. When applying to be a volunteer assistant counselor at a Christian summer camp my sophomore year of high school, the camp required counselors to keep a working cell phone on them at all times. My friends’ bosses frequently text or call them at any hour of the day and expect a prompt reply. 74

Since almost everyone has a cell phone, everyone is expected to be reached easily.

Another issue with technology, and specifically smartphones, is their capabilities for immediate communication. Since replying to a text message is nearly instantaneous, people can and often do become offended when it takes someone more than a few minutes to respond. I know that, at least in my case, this fear of upsetting others is difficult to ignore; it causes me to repeatedly check my phone when communicating with someone over text. When I do work up the discipline to turn on “Do Not Disturb,” silencing the near-constant stream of notifications that hold such power over me, I still feel somewhat trapped in this never-ending world of technology. This is because, although my phone no longer calls out to me in a tangible manner, I am still slave to its inescapable presence, almost as if it has become a part of me altogether. I constantly worry that my silenced phone is receiving urgent messages that I am unaware of, and so I allow myself to glance at it quickly. Since I check it so frequently, there are no missed messages on the lock screen. Yet, this is somehow not enough reassurance. I soon after find myself perusing each app that I deem important—iMessage, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, email, YikYak, and TikTok—to see if there are any missed notifications that strangely did not pop up on my lock screen. As most would guess, I cannot recall a time that there actually was a notification that did not appear on my lock screen, yet I cannot stop checking my phone. It is hard to pinpoint why I am so addicted to such frivolous apps. If I truly reflect on my usage of them, it is obvious that anything I could miss for a few hours is inconsequential, but I cannot seem to resist them.

I believe that it is important to analyze not only the control that smartphones have over people in younger age brackets, but also the implications of living in an increasingly digital world. Why should it matter that we are addicted to our phones? After all, we are living in a time of incredible technological advancement. Video-chatting apps such as Zoom and Google Meet virtually eliminate the need for in-person meetings, while self-driving cars offer the opportunity for safer and more efficient roads. Moreover, the development of new devices and applications greatly reduces the time to complete everyday tasks. In theory, the ease and proficiency with which technology allows us to live should leave us with more free time. However, this does not seem to be the case. Because of my addiction to and dependence upon my smartphone, I dedicate my “increased free time” to my phone. The time that I 75

should spend relaxing is instead dedicated to scrolling mindlessly through Instagram and watching short TikToks for far too long. I have tried to revert back to my old forms of relaxation—reading books, enjoying the outdoors, or watching movies—but I have come to realize that, due to the expeditious nature of technology, my attention span is no longer what it used to be. My brain has been unconsciously rewired to find gratification only in ten-second videos and carefully edited sunset pictures. Sitting through a two-hour-long movie is now an accomplishment for me, since my brain works completely differently than it did ten years ago. Although I use my relaxation time to indulge in the countless pleasures offered by my phone, it seldom brings me actual relaxation. I often feel more anxious, irritable, and tired after using it. It feels like a chore I must complete. After getting home late at night, I should go straight to bed, but I feel obligated to check each social media platform. My eyes struggle to stay open, and I fight my body’s cry for sleep just to finish watching my friends’ Snapchat stories. When I finish, I set an alarm on my phone, plug it into its charger, and lay it right next to my pillow. These tendencies seem absurd. However, I am not alone. Many of my peers identify with the problems I’ve touched on in this reflection: a lack of self-control, loss of attention span, and, perhaps most paramount, the feeling that my phone dictates my life. You would think that all of these negative effects would prompt an uprising; however, we remain silent. It leads me to wonder: do I own my phone, or does it own me? Anyway, I have to go check my phone.

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