I Put My Phone Down for Two Weeks—And Picked Up My Life Again

Inspired by @tjpower’s 7-Day Digital Detox

We live in a world where the first thing many of us touch in the morning isn’t the hand of a loved one or a warm cup of tea—but our phone. We scroll before we rise, check notifications before brushing our teeth and swipe through reels before we’ve even had a moment to feel ourselves.

It’s become normal. Automatic. Invisible.

But is it healthy?

I came across a post by @tjpower that made me pause. He and his fiancée had committed to seven days of no phones during mealtimes, in the bathroom, before bed and in those in-between spaces where we often default to mindless scrolling.

Just a break. A reset. A chance to be present.

It sounded simple. I decided to try it.

The Quiet Shift

It’s now been over two weeks—and I’ve stayed with it. Not perfectly, but with intention. I put my phone in another room while eating. Although, I have to admit I still take it to the bathroom—but not to scroll through reels. And I still sometimes look at it when I’ve just gotten up, but I’m far more conscious now.

And something shifted.

I felt lighter. More grounded. More… me.

What I Realised About Myself

Here’s a truth I hadn’t fully admitted before: My phone is a crutch.

I use it to hide behind. When I feel overwhelmed, I reach for it. When I feel lonely or anxious, I scroll. When I feel vulnerable in social settings or emotionally exposed, it gives me something to do—something that protects me from sitting with the discomfort.

And while it gives temporary relief, it also steals something sacred: the chance to be present. To move through those feelings, rather than avoid them. To be seen, and to truly see others.

The Deep Connect

Without a screen between me and the world, I’ve noticed more—my child’s face, the tone in someone’s voice, the texture of the day.

I look up more. I smile more. I’m less distracted and more alive.

Conversations are richer. Meals slower. Emotions clearer.

It hasn’t just been a break from my phone—it’s felt like a reunion with myself.

The Ripple Effect at Home

One of the most beautiful and unexpected shifts has been in my daughter. I’ve been more mindful of her screen time too, and I can see the difference. She’s more present. More creative. More herself.

When I’m in the kitchen, she’ll come in to chat instead of zoning out on her iPad. We play more games. Spend more time in the garden. We just… hang out more.

It feels like we’ve been gifted extra hours in the day. Less rushing. Less resistance. More shared joy.

And I’ve noticed a shift in my own nervous system too. That constant pressure to be reachable, to always check in, to not “miss anything”—it’s exhausting. Letting go of that has felt like exhaling.

Even Jean-Paul and I have started doing crosswords together, which has brought so much unexpected fun and connection.

It’s Still a Work in Progress

I won’t pretend I’ve cracked it. I still sometimes fall into the Instagram rabbit hole—especially when I’m tired or overstimulated. And every time, I feel it. The contrast in my mood is immediate. I feel scattered. A bit dulled. A bit less like myself.

We used to watch Insta reels while waiting to go into school—my daughter and I. It became a little routine. Now, we talk. Or head to the playground. And I feel so much better for it. More present. More awake.

Sometimes, I miss life before mobile phones. When plans were properly made and stuck to. When flaking wasn’t just a tap away. When presence was the norm, not the exception.

Why Does Scrolling Make Us Feel Low?

It’s something I’ve asked myself time and again—especially after those long, empty-feeling scrolling sessions where I feel more disoriented than when I began.

Here’s what I believe:

Social media, as beautiful and inspiring as it can be, is a curated world. We’re constantly taking in edited glimpses of people’s lives, bodies, homes, routines—and comparing them to our own unfiltered, messy, human experience.

We absorb so much—joy, grief, anger, beauty—all in a few minutes. It’s emotional whiplash.

Then there’s the dopamine cycle: each like, comment, or new post provides a quick hit… but the crash always follows. And underneath it all, a whisper forms:“You’re not enough. Not yet.”

So we scroll more. Numb more. Disconnect more. It’s not our fault—it’s just how these platforms are designed.

Coming Home to Presence

What I’ve rediscovered is this: When I put the phone down, I come home to my life. To the people I love. To the inner quiet I didn’t know I was missing. To the version of me that doesn’t hide behind distraction, but shows up—imperfect, present, real.

What I’m Doing Differently Now

Meals are sacred—phones off. No screens before bed or right after waking. I’m more intentional about how I use my phone in the morning. When I reach for my phone, I ask: “What am I trying not to feel right now?” I’m learning to replace scrolling with connecting with others, walking, or just being still.

This isn’t about being anti-phone or anti-tech. It’s about being pro-life. Pro-connection. Pro-presence.

A Gentle Invitation

If you’re feeling disconnected, distracted, or just a bit off, maybe it’s not that something’s wrong with you. Maybe it’s just time to take a breath, look up and come back.

Back to the beauty that only exists in real time. Back to your people. Back to you.

Because sometimes the most radical act of self-care isn’t a retreat or a cleanse—it’s just choosing to be where your feet are. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it’s quiet. Even if it’s unfamiliar.

That’s where life actually happens. And it’s so much more nourishing than a scroll.