It Really Is That Damn Phone: Why You Feel Like You're Losing Your Mind (Because You Kinda Are)

I fear our parents were right. It really is that damn phone. That glorious, addicting, terrible, burdensome phone. If you think you've caught some kind of ailment in recent years, be it of the neurotic variety, a hyperactivity disorder, attention problems, or spiritual malaise, before you tell me what conclusions you've arrived at, let me just ask you one question: When was the last time you spent a single day metaphysically 'roughing it'?

If you hesitate to answer or genuinely can't recall the last time you went an entire 24 hours without that rectangular virtual hellscape in your hand—no checking of apps or faffing about on your laptop (that's right, consuming media from a secret separate device does not absolve you of this, God sees all), then how can we be so willing to accept all these other explanations for why we feel off? Why we can't focus? Whether we suddenly developed ADHD in late adulthood? Why we can't sit down to read a book with ease? 

Has it occurred to us that boredom used to be something to sit with, not a condition to cure? It wasn't something that had to be ameliorated. It just was. You sat with it. And in that disturbing little space of sensory deprivation, it gave you space for miraculous things to happen. The lack of constant stimulation gave way to daydreams, epiphanies, curious theories, and a more fantastical imagination. Or it gave you the sentience to realize what a terrible situation you were in. Without the sedative of content, we could stew in our emotions, regrets, and hopes for the future. And believe it or not, that might be for the better. Distraction has its place—heartbreak, grief, a falling out. These are transitory hardships, and numbing the pain can help you weather the storm. 

But do you want to be distracted from your life? The only one you get? There's something comically absurd about being bestowed the gift of life—of conscious experience, only to intentionally avoid experiencing it at all. If you're an adult iPad kid, like so many of us are, you might think you're experiencing it, but I can guarantee you that whatever level of engagement you're operating on is suboptimal.

As someone with a boredom-avoidant constitution, I have to admit that my unwillingness to tolerate stillness in any capacity is bordering on pathology. It's like I'm afraid to exist outside of the metaverse, where every niche interest I have is mirrored back at me through hyper-personalized feeds. Why am I afraid to go to the restroom without doomscrolling on my phone? This can't be an optimal way to live.

Social media has become a powerful drug, corrosive to the mind, but socially acceptable to lose yourself in. A quick search for "it's that damn phone" on TikTok brings back results for countless digital junkies not lacking in self-awareness or the desire to unplug but the will to cut the cord. They know it's bad to waste hours of their day doomscrolling in their bed—that they used to be sharper, more patient, less impulsive, and more focused before they fried their dopamine receptors with constant scrolling and social media feedback loops. Most people are stuck on a virtual hedonic treadmill that is designed to be addictive in the same way slot machines are designed to keep you gambling. 

Some of us seem so entrenched in the digi-verse that we actively cause psychic harm to ourselves by lingering on sites that cause us distress, hate-reading every toxic tweet that pops into our feed—unable to look away for "fear of missing out" on the discourse. None of this is normal. And we know, intuitively, that we used to be happier, less stressed out, more disciplined, less overstimulated before all of the virtual noise captured our attention spans and never let go.

The Wall Street Journal did a report in 2019 on how smartphones sabotage our brain's ability to focus. Dr. Kostadin Kushlev is an Assistant Professor at the Department of Psychology at Georgetown University and leader of The Digital Health and Happiness Lab. He conducted a 2014 study that found that frequently checking your email throughout the day causes people to feel more stressed and overwhelmed. This is because smartphones don't just distract us, they rewire the way our brains allocate attention. Two regions of the brain, the frontal cortex, and the parietal cortex, engage in a tug of war for our attention. 

The frontal cortex keeps us engaged in cognitively demanding tasks, while the parietal cortex responds to distractions. The job of the frontal cortex is to keep the parietal cortex in check and keep you focused. The problem is that your brain constantly decides what tasks are important, and every distraction is burning cognitive fuel, even if the interruption is brief, like checking an email or a phone notification. These actions involve a cascade of micro-decisions that are low effort and feel rewarding but, added up throughout the day, deplete your ability to continue making important decisions. 

Your brain treats it all as labor, even if the tasks you've been engaging in aren't difficult or productive, which makes focusing on real work even harder. High cognitive load tasks make us more susceptible to new distractions, and the mere act of reorienting our attention back and forth requires effort in itself. So, if you ever feel stuck in a cycle of constant busy work that paralyzes you from sinking your teeth into the real meat of your agenda, you're not imagining it. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy that's difficult to break out of, and it's nefarious because it seems like it's hardly interfering with our lives, all while robbing us of valuable resources—time, attention, and discernment.

The iPhone has been out for less than twenty years, but already, raising "iPad kids"—children whose dopamine receptors are permanently fried before they've even developed the ability to talk—is a serious societal problem we have to contend with. You think your attention span, focus, cognitive performance, and motivation have taken a hit? And believe me, many are complaining about this; documenting what they joke amounts to screen-induced brain damage. Just imagine how far the odds are stacked against children for whom this is all they've ever known. 

But it's deeper than just distraction. I don't have to tell you that countless studies have shown that social media spikes feelings of anxiety and depression, especially among teens and young adults. We often hear about the dangers social media poses for the following reasons: ideological radicalization, cyberbullying, comparison stoking mental health problems because of FOMO, and insecurities. Those are the obvious drawbacks—undoubtedly real, potent, and common. 

However, limiting the detrimental effects of the digital sphere we can't escape from to mere Instagram social comparison feels like underselling the real crisis here. Not everyone who uses social media gets FOMO or can't scroll Instagram without feeling depressed that they don't look like a Victoria's Secret model. But what's a damn near universal negative experience from excessive screen time and being terminally online? 

A crisis of meaning fueled by isolation, atomization, and hyper-individuation that's eroded real-life community and spontaneous socialization. Reduced capacity to focus. Stress and overwhelm from too much information. Being hyper-connected online, but paradoxically feeling lonelier than ever. 

Dr. Kushlev conducted another study in 2015 examining how smartphone use affects social connectedness during everyday tasks. Participants in the study were given a simple task: locate an unfamiliar building on their university's campus. They were assigned randomly to one of two groups. One group was permitted to use their smartphones to find the building (like say, with the use of straightforward GPS), while the other was not permitted to use their smartphones, instead relying on external cues like campus signs or asking others for directions. 

The group that relied on their phones found the building faster and more conveniently, but it came with a cost. They reported feeling less socially connected to their community and reported lower trust in strangers compared to the group that didn't use their phones. On a macro scale, the automation of convenience over the reliance on the help of strangers can begin to erode some pretty fundamental pillars of connection by missing out on opportunities to cultivate trust within their communities.

When you went to the grocery store pre-smartphones, there was a propensity for connection with total strangers that is now lost. That saying, "You can go back, but no one will be there" is especially poignant here. Nothing is stopping you from approaching people in public, making conversation in the grocery line, or complimenting some stranger's shoes. It's just that the culture that gave rise to these spontaneous interactions, and cultivated a psychology of genuine curiosity about one another, unfortunately no longer exists. 

Don't get me wrong; I'm no Luddite. I'm not proposing we turn our backs on technology and return to the wheat fields. In many ways, I owe my life's most fundamental building blocks to the Internet. I met my boyfriend through a Facebook group. My career revolves around commentary on internet discourse. I feel genuine gratitude for the ease of living in the modern world thanks to the technological innovations of the 21st century. 

But medicine is dose-dependent. Take too much of even magic elixirs that cure serious ailments and suddenly they can harm you. That's how I see technology. I've spent many years living in denial, even scoffing at the plebs who "can't handle" scrolling on Instagram without apparently descending into a neurotic breakdown because some girl named Cheryl took a trip to Bali. I thought, "Maybe the problem is just you." Now I think those people weren't broken, but whole. Their nervous system was responding to something incredibly unnatural. Being terminally online, amusing yourself to death, and refusing to unplug from something that actively harms you hardly makes you superior. It might mean you've just lost your humanity. 

So here's my advice. It's not sexy, titillating, contrarian, or shocking. But the most difficult truths to swallow seldom are. If any of this has resonated with you, I ask that you try, every now and then, to just be bored. Just wonder about something without confirming it in a late-night research rabbit hole. Ask a friend to meet up instead of sending them reels. We need to, sometimes, just be. That's always been one of the hardest things in life. Way before TikTok, phones, and algorithms, "just being" has always been the real challenge. It's also the real cure.