NOTE: This article was originally published on April 26. 2016 and has been republished in light of the growing national trend of banning cell phones in schools. 

When I decided to go a week without my phone, I suspected the experiment would end in one of two ways: either I would denounce technology and cell phones altogether, move out West, and send the occasional postcard back to civilization, or I would be found curled up in the corner of some dark room, clutching a phone-shaped object in withdrawal. The experiment ended less dramatically than any of these scenarios. However, I did experience elements of both throughout the week.

I consider myself a moderate phone user; I am not on my phone nonstop, but I usually keep it within arms reach. I would certainly not consider myself a technophobe, but I began to wonder how much extra time I would have in a day if I just turned it off. And then I imagined how much extra time I would have in a phoneless week! Surely I would have time to finish the stack of half-read books on my desk, run a marathon, open up a small business, and who knows, maybe even finish all of my homework before first bell! I didn’t want to be too ambitious, though.

Slightly regretful and extremely anxious, I decided to go for it. Before the week began, I gave myself a set of rules: the phone is to be turned completely off and to remain in my car’s glove compart-
ment (for emergencies) for the duration of the week. No phone included no social media (sigh), and non-emergency use of a friend’s phone counted as cheating. Many of us have experienced life without a phone from being grounded, “misplacement,” or accidentally leaving it outside before a snow storm, only to find it the next day, cold and unresponsive. But this was different; I was voluntarily forgoing my phone to see what would happen. Would life be better unplugged?

Before the week began, I had to tell my friends that they would have to find more creative ways to contact me for the next week. I received several “whys?” and blank stares, but I assured everyone that I would be checking my email. I woke up on the first day extremely confused; there was nothing on the charger next to my bed and an unfamiliar alarm had jolted me back to consciousness. I had to physically remove myself from bed to turn off the alarm. This was probably the hardest moment of my entire week.

I definitely struggled the first two days. Classes seemed to move so slowly. How was I supposed to “check the time” on my phone with no phone? What if I needed to look up the definition of a word? Using a dictionary is just so… archaic. I hated awkwardly standing by someone’s locker with nothing to look down at. What was I supposed to do, make eye contact with people in the hallway as I waited for my friend?

Then I remembered Snapchat. I would have to give up all of my streaks. Every. Single. One. (This realization was only mitigated by the fact that I had recently lost a 180-day streak.) As ridiculous as these concerns seem (are), the reality is that we live in a techno-centric world. Going from being connected 24/7 to not being connected at all is hard. Modern communication relies almost exclusively on the use of texting and social media.

I was surprised by how lonely I felt in the first two days. Even though I was spending the same amount of time around my friends, it felt as if I was spending more time alone. Towards the middle of the week, I began to miss my phone less. Although communication was harder, every interaction seemed to hold more value. I had to actually seek someone out and talk to them in person if I had something to say. Conversations became more meaningful because of the added effort that went into starting them.

I was worried about missing important information, but I found that if someone really needed to talk to me, they too would find a way. Even with communication being slightly more challenging, miscommunication became a non-issue. I could say exactly what I wanted to say in the way I wanted it said, because I was talking to people face-to-face. Gone were the worries of text misinterpretation, the ambiguity of a delivered message, or the anxiety of a read-receipt.

Without my phone, I became more observant. Moments of quiet inactivity were no longer fulfilled with picking up my phone and finding entertainment through social media; I spent more time
thinking. I started to actually enjoy the disconnection. I liked not having to reply to texts, or use social media to assuage boredom. I was a lot less stressed out. The world seemed to slow down; everything felt less urgent. By the end of the week, I didn’t even think about my phone anymore.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t have moments of frustration, but I enjoyed the week as a whole. I began to realize how often moments are curated for Snapchat, or how un-candid Instagram really is. Being disconnected meant being unable to keep up with everyone, which was honestly such a relief. Without a phone, I noticed things more, observed my surroundings—smelled the roses, as they say. I didn’t end up running a marathon, or starting a small business, but I did have more time on my hands.

When the time came for me to retrieve my phone, I wasn’t excited about it. The phone just felt like a weight in my hand. I thought for sure that this reunion would be the best moment of my life.  Instead, I turned it on and felt disappointed. I glanced through several hundred texts, laughed at a dozen people’s snaps, but I didn’t miss anything. Nothing happened that was an emergency; the world did not stop spinning while I was living off of the grid. I think that is a common misconception that we have, that living without our phones for a while is dangerous, that not being connected 24/7 is a social faux-pas.

I was surprised to find that this was not the case.

This challenge turned out to be one of the most rewarding things I have done this year. Turning off a phone seems so simple, but the effects were unanticipated. In the days following the experiment, I was worried about how quickly I reattached myself to my phone, but as a whole, I find myself using it less now. I realized that it is going to take a conscious effort on my part to decide how connected I wanted to be, but I am always up for a challenge.