200 Days with a Dumb Phone

My new phone is cool.

We’re in the locker room after hockey. Guys are pulling off skates and tossing gear into bags.
I check my new phone for messages. My buddy bursts out laughing.

I toss him the smallest phone he’s ever seen — it’s the size of a credit card.

He holds it like a rare artifact.

I grin. I’ve traded my iPhone for something called the Jelly Star. A palm-sized Android that looks like a toy.

Have you ever wished you could go back to the good old days?

Not the 2 a.m. bar close at Scruffy Murphy’s. (2 a.m., LOL)

I mean before our pet rectangles.
A time when:

Well…

I spent 200 days living with a dumb phone.
I chucked my iPhone into a drawer, and the Jelly Star became my daily driver.

In this article, I’ll tell you how it felt, what I got back, and why I think everyone should try it.

But first, be honest:
You’ve thought about this, right? Up way too late, glowing screen in hand…

For me?
My final straw came with fatherhood. A parental awakening.
I couldn’t stand the idea of my kids watching me as a rectangle slave.

So I quit.
And yeah — there was friction. Keep reading.

I hold my Jelly Star. My mind is blank.
My thumb hovers over the screen.

Nothing happens.

It’s called phantom phone checking. When your brain tells your thumb to move even though there’s nothing to check.

Boredom hits like a brick.

But.
Then the wins start rolling in.

I sleep better. I read books again. I feel… present.

Most of the time, my phone sits on the counter by itself.

I stop caring about the friction.

Want a photo? I grab my wife’s iPhone, or my old one from the drawer.
Need email? I check it on my laptop.
Time to poop? Hands free, baby!

No doomscrolling. No feeds.

The Jelly Star becomes my little Swiss Army knife: all the essentials, nothing else.

This might sound kinda funny, but when boredom creeps in, I just…think.
I use my brain more…

My brain feels the healthiest it’s been in years.

My thoughts are cohesive — the same from one morning to the next.
I set goals that make sense, and I actually reach them.

Why trade that for funny videos I don’t remember?
Purchases I don’t need? Marketing professionals literally label us “impulse buyers.”
Is that really who I want to be?

Without the habits of screentime, I’m healthier all-around. It might be correlated to the sleep, quality of life improvements.

I text friends, call family, work hard.

I feel good, I have energy, I’ve shed a few pounds too.

Of course I miss my iPhone.
It’s a perfect device… and I should know, because I’ve been without it for 200 days.

I tell myself I can return to it with willpower and perspective.

On June 30, our son is born.
I switch back to the rectangle.
(I want family group messages, shared photos, the joy of capturing my newborn’s face.)

Seven months with a dumb phone — not bad!

You ever heard that term? The adult pacifier.

Try this: next time you’re around strangers, pretend you don’t own a smartphone.
What’s everyone doing?
What’s their posture?
What’s their face saying?

It’s pathetic — and I say that with compassion, because I am that guy.
We all have been.

Nibbling at our screens, pacified by meaningless moments.

Our world needs discernment.

Discernment, as the baptist “Prince of Preachers” famously put it, is

Smartphones are almost right.

Being able to connect with anyone, instantly, is almost right.

Access to products for every possible scenario is almost right.

Interesting videos & podcasts are almost right.

But something ain’t right. And you know it.

When I finally broke free from my rectangle addiction, my life was better in almost every way.

Is ‘almost right’ good enough for you?

groupthink → leadership.

viral → uniqueness.

same-day delivery, instant gratification, constant comparisons → discernment.

Not every second needs to be filled with input.

Three months later, I’m back to three hours of screen time a day.
Somehow, twitter and instagram creep back in.

I can’t tell you specifics about what I’ve seen — thousands of videos gone in a blur.

That’s the danger: it’s never a deliberate choice.

Despite everything, I’m optimistic.
The pendulum is swinging back.

We’re starting to crave less screen time and more presence.
And when enough of us unplug, markets ripen for disruption.

Low-tech tools that honor our attention, not exploit it.

That’s where I’m headed next.

We have to go easy on ourselves.

This includes smartphone addiction.
Technology’s grasp on your brain has been a slow, subtle, slippery slope.

Forgive yourself.
Start over.
You can turn around any time you want.

Because when you do, here’s what comes back:

If you made it this far, thanks for reading.
If you’re tired of being a pet rectangle owner, maybe it’s time to start your own season of discernment.

And if you want to keep exploring ideas like this, subscribe to my newsletter, or send me a note!
I’ll be there, responding to your message whenever it damn well suits me.

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