I ‘dumbed’ down my phone for four weeks in an attempt to reduce the 27 hours I was spending on it weekly.
A ‘dumbphone’ is the opposite of a smartphone, where it only has the basics such as calling, texting, alarms, and less of the addictive stuff like social media apps.
I thought a blanket rule of turning off all my notifications except calls and texts was a smart idea, but it literally cost me.
I got stung with a $50 no-show fee for missing my doctor’s appointment after accidentally booking the wrong date and missing the email reminder that clearly showed I made a mistake.
I also had to turn on my notifications for WhatsApp after missing important messages from a bridesmaid group chat.
But aside from that, I’d say it was a successful experiment to help wean me off my Instagram addiction.
You know how vape addicts say they need that first hit in the morning? For me, I need that first hit to watch Instagram Reels.
I would spend 11 hours a week doom-scrolling them.
However, I started associating my phone with dread and anxiety when I realised the emotional rollercoaster I went through watching them.
How can the algorithm show me a hilarious video of a couple doing relatable yet silly shit, followed by a heartbreaking story of how a stranger lost their dog and then millions of tonnes of landfill waste being dumped in Asia?
All of that in under two minutes? It just feels too much.
I found myself craving the “old days” when a phone was just a utility tool and when social media was just a place to keep up with your friends.
I’m not the only one either, there’s a growing trend of Gen Z moving away from smartphones and going on a digital detox.
Why I turned my iPhone into a dumbphone
In an effort to have a healthier relationship with my phone, I trawled the internet for alternatives and discovered the dumbphone.
Some go as far as buying an old flip phone, buying a niche (and expensive) dumbphone, or like myself, you can just tweak the phone you already have.
For four weeks, I turned off all my notifications, apart from calls and texts of course, paid $15 for apps to strip down my iPhone interface to something so minimalistic and dull and removed my beloved Reels tab from Instagram on Safari.
Here’s how I did in those four weeks:
The week before I started my month-long experiment, my screen time averaged about 27 hours weekly, of which 11 hours — more than a full working day — was spent on Instagram.
I also used Instagram right away 309 times in the 979 times I picked up my phone.
On average, I shaved 7.5 hours off my weekly screen time. In week four, I reduced my Instagram use by 3.5 hours and I halved the number of times I picked up my phone to 406 times. The first app I open now is Messages.
Very mindful, very demure when it comes to my phone now
Our lives are so intertwined with our phones – banking, maps, calendars, music, QR codes for concerts, restaurants and flights – so effectively getting back a full working day is a massive feat for me.
I’ve also stopped checking Instagram first thing in the morning and I don’t doom-scroll on Reels anymore, another massive feat!
Keeping my dumbphone set up only makes sense because it’s a sustainable way to keep my screen time down from addictive apps.
It’s also more realistic than going on a “full detox” when my job and life strongly rely on staying connected.
Despite turning my notifications off literally costing me, I now have a more mindful approach to checking Messenger, Instagram DMs, and emails in my own time and no longer feel the need to reply to everyone immediately.
Notifications can be anxiety-inducing for me because I feel like I have to respond to people straight away, and seeing messages pile up is overwhelming.
What the digital disconnection expert says
To help make sense of what I would call a successful experiment, I spoke to Dr Alex Beattie, who has researched digital disconnection and is a lecturer in Media and Communication at Victoria University of Wellington | Te Herenga Waka.
Alex says the pressure to respond straight away is not an isolated experience, as communication norms have changed because anyone can be reached at any time and place.
“Norms have changed around when is it appropriate to text back, when is it appropriate to email back, and it’s hard and it’s exhausting.”
He says this is still a relatively new dilemma we’re still in the middle of and there are no clear answers yet.
‘Being able to fully disconnect is a privilege’
Alex says fully disconnecting is no longer feasible and being able to fully disconnect “is a privilege”.
He says people often associate high screen time with wasting time but it’s not always the case because people use their phones to stay connected to loved ones and for work.
“Not everyone can disconnect equally based on your job, your gender… Some people are required to be connected to the internet to find work if they’re an Uber driver.
“If you’re a journalist or someone who requires to have their finger on the pulse — needs to be in the know — how can you disconnect?”
Find a sustainable way to disconnect that works for you
The more realistic thing to do, Alex says, is to assess what kind of access someone needs and figure out what works for you.
He says people can try dumbphone and productivity apps, putting one-hour daily limits on social media, or gamify disconnecting in ways like finding others who will disconnect with them.
As more people want to disconnect, Alex says a new form of luxury, like bourgeois retreats or summer camps to help adults disconnect, is popping up.
“We need to be conscious [in] how can we make disconnecting available to more people.
“The reason I’m a huge fan of libraries… is that a library is a public space, a quiet space. No one’s trying to sell you anything… and in a way just disconnect.
“It’s so important to think about what public spaces [are] equivalent to disconnecting, so it’s not just turned into a commodity and something that an individual can buy.”
