Well, it’s 2 a.m. and I am in my bed, but I don’t feel sleepy. The screen lights up my face in a pitch-dark room as I scroll through Instagram reels, memes, and posts about healing and relationships. I keep on telling myself that I’ll stop after this one, but I rarely do. Because there are moments when my thoughts are louder than any notifications.
Every day with the same bedtime routine, I believed that I was addicted to my phone. Maybe I am, a little. But when I sit with it, I realise I’m not just scrolling aimlessly, I’m trying to escape.
Escaping the need to know everything. Escaping the isolation that arises between talks. Escaping the constant self-analysis that runs at the back of my head. Escaping reality when everything seems too real, too fast, or too slow.
But here is the thing, nobody talks about escaping isn’t always a terrible thing. In order to tolerate reality, we need a little break from it. We crave a song that knows us better than anyone else. If the day doesn’t make us laugh, this reel will. A virtual world in which we are not constantly “on.”
But do we really realise when is the actual risk? It’s when five minutes of “just checking” turns into an hour of mindless numbing. When we stop facing the parts of our life that quietly ask for attention, because it’s easier to swipe them away.
However, lately I have started asking myself, what is that thing that I am so desperately trying to avoid right now? And the answers have surprised me.
Sometimes, I’m avoiding rest because it makes me feel lazy. I’m avoiding feelings because I genuinely don’t know what to do with them. And sometimes, I’m just avoiding boredom because of this overstimulated world.
So, no, I don’t have a phone addiction. I’m addicted to it because it makes me feel better, diverts my attention, and provides a sense of escape from being human.
But I’m learning. Slowly. To pause before I pick it up. To sit through the discomfort instead of silencing it. To escape, consciously, and not because I’m scared of what comes up when I don’t. Because perhaps removing apps isn’t where the true freedom lies. It’s in learning to face the life we keep trying to scroll past.