The Phone That Cried Withdrawal - A Modern Fable

The moral Big Tech doesn't want you to know about going Smartphone-free

I just spent four weeks living without a smartphone, and I have news: the digital cliff we're all terrified of falling from doesn't exist.

You've probably heard horror stories about digital detoxing — the withdrawal, the isolation, the inevitable crawling back to your iPhone. But I have a completely different story, and it's one that Big Tech really doesn't want you to hear.

The Fear Is Real, The Cliff Isn't

The fear leading up to it? Absolutely terrifying.

I started this artistic experiment because I had a hunch that my phone was blocking me from achieving my creative goals. I kept delaying my "official" start date, nudging it here and there, until finally the promised cut-off day arrived and it was, well baby, now or never.

I tested my new reality by texting close friends, then my mom. She sweetly said, "Oh that's great honey. Too bad the whole world is against you."

She knows her girl. I do love a challenge.

But here's the weird thing: once I made the leap, life felt pretty much the same. Initially.

I didn't go through extreme detox. I noticed an almost comically mime-like habit of reaching and impulsively looking at my Dumb phone — especially when things got uncomfortable and I wanted that handy escape hatch.

But my Lightphone has absolutely nothing stimulating to look at. No escape.

My inner witness came online: "Heeeey girl, seeeeeeee! See how you were checking the fuck out of your life?"

But it was all... mild?

I really think the digital abyss we're all afraid to fall off of is partially hype.

This is coming from someone who tested as fully addicted to their phone. Phone addiction is not yet recognized in the DMS-5 as a mental health disorder, so I looked up phone addiction assessments there seems to be a standard (this one by Rivia Mind), and yep — I checked every box, except one.

A few years ago I stopped sleeping with my phone every night after reading How To Break Up With Your Phone, that was one habit that stuck.

If you met me, I don’t think you’d describe me as phone addicted. I didn’t have a lot of apps on my phone (no Instagram or social media), I had zero notifications turned on, in fact — I did most of the things Catherine Price recommends to make your phone a boring and under stimulating place to be.

I was not some TikTok, techneck teen with a selfie stick… I might have even described myself as a smartphone minimalist compared to most people, yet still when answering the questions honestly, I am addicted.

I felt the addiction.

Hi I’m Kate. I’m a Smartphone Addict.

Here's what's fascinating: unlike other addictions, the "solutions" for phone addiction never include abstention.

We tell alcoholics not to drink.

Porn addicts not to watch porn.

Gambling addicts not to go to casinos.

Why not tell smartphone addicts not to use smartphones?

The suggestions never just say "Get rid of your smartphone" or "Opt for a less stimulating phone."

These are choices available to all of us. Flip phones, the Lightphone, Wisephone.

And I’m sorry, only 47% are “admitting to” addiction — but we’re checking these devices on average 352 times per day?! How is that not, by definition, an addiction by virtually EVERYONE?

I get it — it's complicated. As my dear mother pointed out, the whole world is against you. Employers, schools, healthcare providers require smartphones now.

And you know, the fact when compared to countries' GDPs, Apple's market cap is larger than all but the top six economies in the world. No big whoop. That has absolutely zero influence on policy.

The majority of what we do on smartphones is by choice, seemingly. We buy the phones, download the apps, participate. We elect to do it to ourselves.

But do we really?

The Enemy Revealed

Let me take you on a tangent to a visceral TV memory — watching Star Trek: The Next Generation with my Dad as a kid. His favorite show. Shhhh. Don't talk while it's on.

In this episode, young Wesley helps the ship break free from a highly addictive game that rewards players with what looks like little hits of sexual gratification — but turns out to be a mind control device planted by an enemy.

The device is a little two-pronged headset that floats projections in front of your eyes. You have to get the disc to go into the cone, with your mind, and when you do — bingo, sex feelies!

There's a scene where Wesley and his girlfriend, played by Ashley Judd, walk into the Mess Hall. The entire room is full of crew members playing the game instead of eating or talking to each other, having what looks like mini-orgasms.

feel this energy...

Wesley and his girlfriend resist until the bitter climatic end, even fake playing The Game as decoy. The ship is ultimately saved by Data (because android) who isn't under the mind control influence. Even Captain Picard is whacked out on this skeezy game.

I think of this episode constantly when I walk into restaurants and see everyone on their phones instead of with each other. I think: The Game.

Which begs the question: who is the enemy?

A few weeks ago,

Ted Gioia

posted a reading list called The Anti-Tech Canon — thirty titles he thinks we should all read, especially those working in tech.

"Tech is treated like a closed universe, operating by its own rules. You might think this isn't a big deal. After all, who cares what books tech leaders read? But I have a very different view. I believe this is a deadly serious matter. Tech is destructive if it operates outside of core human values and holistic, empathetic thinking."

I assumed they'd all read 1984, but maybe not? Or maybe they read it and thought, "Hey! I got a great idea!"

Seems to be working, just like in 1984 we are by choice voluntarily handing over our privacy, attention, and time to the state.

Look at our democracy. Look at whistleblowers like Carole Cadwalladr breaking stories like Cambridge Analytica, or Frances Haugen testifying how Facebook and Instagram strategically attack young girls for profit.

Y'all.

THEY ARE GOING AFTER OUR CHILDREN.

Look at every corner of our social fabric — the infrastructure of labor-rights hard-won by my grandfather's generation. He gave me Studs Terkel's book Working when I was thirteen. Now watch it all disintegrate under "tech disruption."

All tucked into the convenience of a pocket-sized device we carry everywhere, all the time. Call it Utopia.

This is a Fable, Not Science Fiction…

Let me break down my findings into surprising and not-so-surprising categories so we walk with some clear moral understandings here.

Not-So Surprising Findings

⁕ Getting off Apple and Verizon is intentionally brutal. The hardest part of my "detox" was escaping their services. The process reinforces the message: "What do you think you're doing, you insane freak? Everyone will hate you!"

But their resistance made me more determined. It became a challenge, a joke. It crystallized just how invested they are in keeping me tethered to my device.

It took me several attempts to figure out how to completely disengage iMessage, for instance, because it was activated on my other Apple devices and blocking my ability to receive texts.

But I figured it out, maaan.

⁕ Is it backed up? Learned a bit about Apple’s iCloud service — unlike images, videos and notes, voice Memos aren't actually backed up to the iCloud — only to other Apple devices. For a songwriter with hundreds of voice memos, that's basically vendor lock-in disguised as "backup." Good to know when they say "backed up," they mean "rented space until you buy another device."

⁕ If you're ditching smartphones, get a printer. Trust me.

⁕ My nervous system recalibrated massively. I'd give you biometric data, but my dumb phone doesn't track any.

⁕ I dedicated more hours to my Audio Engineering coursework than any other month since enrolling.

⁕ I played my instrument and practiced singing more than in recent memory.

⁕ I took a ridiculous number of baths in my outdoor tub.

Very Surprising Findings

⁕ People's reactions are pure elation. When I tell people I'm not using a smartphone, it's like I just kicked the shins of the big mean bully who's been terrorizing everyone.

You what? You did WHAT? Oh I wish I could do that!

Good. For. You.

Full sincerity.

I wasn't expecting this subversive hunger. I was expecting eye rolls, not this light suddenly igniting behind people's eyes.

⁕ My overall internet time plummeted 75%. I expected to compensate with computer time — YouTube videos, web surfing, regular internet-y things. But I haven't. Something about removing the phone removed the compulsion entirely.

⁕ Big ideas are coming. The debris, fog, and clutter is clearing. I can feel substantial concepts approaching — ideas I was not ready to receive until now.

The same sensation I get when a song is making its way to me. Something percolating beneath the surface, where inspiration, experience, study, research, imagery, and dreams weave together in the astral realm. If I'm patient, I'll sit down one day and find a woven tapestry draped around me.

⁕ I stopped eating with screens. I was stubbornly eating every meal with my phone playing videos, despite knowing all dietary and digestive advice says: don't watch while eating, especially with digestion issues.

But you guys…! Videos made me feel like I had company. I was unwilling to eat alone —I am human after all. A social creature. It’s not my fault we don’t live in village anymore…

This month, I placed a stack of books at my kitchen island instead, one for every mood I might find myself in. Turns out, they’re great company too.

⁕ And I shit you not, I am digesting better.

Still have not made it to grandmaster status where I eat a meal in complete unadulterated presence, me chew-chew-chewing. But I might get there.

⁕ Not being constantly screen-stimulated, I am preferring the quiet of my house and mind. I don't want to fill my space with other people's thoughts and energy. I have on a number of occasions started to pull up a video or podcast and then thought, “Nah.”

Listened to music, or nothing. Just be.

⁕ I didn’t have a big blurbing up of repressed feelings I wasn’t dealing with suddenly come to the surface, as predicted by experts or as I’ve read in other people’s accounts of going phone-free.

I just stopped looking at my phone all the time. Which opened up… peace?

The theory that we are using our phones to avoid feeling what’s real, right under the surface — might be slightly misguided. I did notice moments of discomfort that I wanted to check out from, like when my kids where yelling too loud in the house and I felt overwhelmed to deal with it. Ahem, phone please!

But mostly? Mostly, it was not that. It was mostly habitual.

Smartphones are wildly stimulating for my cute little brain to look at. Purposely designed so. Maybe it’s not so much about avoiding my feelings and just about it being absurdly enticing for my brain.

I’m not officially diagnosed with ADHD but I have a high ACES score which can look pretty similar, in terms of how the brain responds to stimulation and attention.

At this point in my life, I’m pretty cool with my thoughts and feelings, the full range. Sure, there are shadows and glitchy parts I don’t go touch super frequently, but mostly, I’m down to feel my feelings. Ride them like waves.

But brainy like dopamine. It like bright light. Colorful button. Pressy pressy. Pushy push.

Remembering How to Move Through the World

I'm not preaching gospel — just doing my thing and enjoying life way more. Reading more, creating more, resting, fucking, cooking, dancing, mothering.

I'm remembering how I used to move through the world before I even had a cell phone at all: free and confident to just see what happens.

From eighth grade until the day I turned 16, I took public buses across the county to school. Hours each day to just be with whatever appeared in front of me. Out there in the wide world with a quarter in my pocket for the phone booth, just in case.

A couple weeks ago, I remembered this feeling in my bones. I had twenty minutes before meditation class. Normally I'd waste it scrolling in my car. Instead, I crossed to the Luther Burbank Memorial Gardens and strolled into sunny, blooming glory.

I witnessed thousands of rose bushes blooming, a homeless man giving himself the most beautiful foot bath in the pond (not gross — lovely), and an interactive placard asking "What is Luther Burbank's legacy after 50 years of working with plants?"

When I flipped it open: nothing. Just blank space.

I laughed until I cried.

A volunteer greeted me: "Hi, I've been waiting for you!" When I expressed amazement at the gardens, he said, "Yep, we're all made up of this same stuff."

Locating Myself, Wherever I Am

Meditating with the rocks.

What I'm tapping into is this wide basin of joy, pleasure, and fun. I'm sleeping and dreaming differently, moving my body more wiggly and free-spirited. I'm just wherever I am when I'm there — not worried about where I should be or what someone needs from me somewhere else. Not my problem.

Where am I right now? At the river with my kids. Cool, I'm here. What happens if we dip rocks into water and see what color they change to?

Where am I right now? Exploring a new redwood hike. Rad. How many birds can I hear? Look how light hits the ferns.

Where am I right now? Here. Present. Untethered from urgent expectations I placed on myself.

I check and respond in my own time. When I'm working, I work. When I’m not, I’m not. I'm far more productive this way — without ragged, worried, trying to please energy following me around all day.

Most days I don't check email or internet until after 11am — unprecedented for me.

And guess what? No one dies. Zero email-related casualties from taking my time and waiting until I'm mentally ready to engage.

Unexpected Creative Explosions

Being forced to print all my songs (no more Google Drive on phone) led me to create a beautiful songbook. Then I realized: I have enough material for a full set. I asked a local café if I could play. I did.

None of that would have happened while dicking around on my phone, with the endless "I'm still working on it" feeling perpetually extended across infinite browser tabs.

Or how about this: I wrote an article obsessing over Spotify's audio quality, then spent this month falling in LOVE with local radio despite its terrible audio quality.

As a teenager, I'd blast KMEL, LIVE 105, or KISS FM in my '68 GMC with a running fantasy: some hottie would pull up listening to the same station, audio waves overlapping through our windows, and we'd realize — soulmates!

Driving around this month, that fantasy reactivated. Not hunting for soulmates (already got one), but for synchronicity. Can that even happen in a streaming world? We’re all siloed off into our perfectly curated algorithms, but what about being together having the same experience at the same time?

And I didn't skip commercials. Sonoma County ads are so adorable I could squeal. Nothing like Oakland or SF corporate ad spots. They're quaint, real, connecting.

They give me the "being with people" feeling I often chase online - you know what I mean? That circle up feeling, like I just want to know what everyone is up to?

I learn about concerts, new restaurants, the family-owned soil company's history. Curiosity slaked.

I also started my film photography project since I don’t have a camera on my dumb phone. I purchased a Kodak Ektar H35 Half Frame Camera and a few rolls of film, and have been shooting my life the way I used to. Point, click, hope for some special artistic moments to boomerang back to my heart.

After my first roll was done, I manually wound it up and walked into CVS.

I asked the nineteen-year-old girl behind the counter: "Do you develop film?"

"You mean, like inside a camera? I know we do that..."

"No, like a roll of film. Like this." I held up the film roll between my thumb and forefinger.

"I don't know. I've never seen that. Let me ask my boss."

I handed it over. She walked to the end of the counter and showed her twenty-three-year-old boss. He nodded.

She returned with THE ENVELOPE! Remember those?!

"Hell yes!" (picture me doing multiple semi truck air horn pulls).

"Um, yeah. We're sending it to North Carolina. It's going to take like a month? So like, please don't come back and ask before that? Because like? We can't do anything to get it here faster? And we will call you when it's ready? It takes like a month."

"You got it!"

I high-fived my sweetheart. We laughed in the parking lot: "Please don't come back before that?"

They're teaching these young people boundaries. I love it!

Everything is Forever, Until It Is No More

Initially, nothing felt different. Now everything feels different.

I'm happier, more creative, generating better ideas, able to act on them. I'm transforming at a pace unlike ever before. A real snake molting moment if there ever was one.

Ever since taking Brian Eno’s class at School of Song, I’ve been repeating Everything Was Forever, Until It Was No More — as mantra.

It comes from Alexei Yurchak's book about how the Soviet Union seemed immutable until suddenly it wasn't. Subversion was happening under the surface, covertly, until the impossible tumble became inevitable and then obvious.

Using it as mantra helps me when I feel overwhelmed by anything dark — this too shall pass. And it gets me revved for possibilities — like a karate kick of excitement for what I could create in the void and chaos, hell yes!

But not everyone is ready for a mantra like this. It freaks some people waaaaay the fuck out.

Some people might prefer a mantra that is more stable, like “Count Your Blessings.”

But it's become my personal mantra because I find it liberating: nothing is as permanent as it seems. Not the constructs we live within, not the programs we’ve been given, not the beliefs that seem encoded into our DNA.

That’s freeing.

Things I once thought of as my personality, I’ve learned, are not. They are trauma-responses. Cultural conditioning. Other people’s energy. Social programming. The Blue Pill.

And smartphone culture is Big Blue Pill Energy, y’all.

We've been told this is just how life is now, that we're permanently tethered to these devices, that there's no going back.

But what if individual choices to step away are actually small acts of revolution? What if the whole system is more fragile than it appears, and change happens faster than anyone expects? I am not the only one experimenting with privacy reclamation and analog living.

Maybe we're witnessing the start of a our own covert Everything is Forever, Until It is No More moment.

Will I go back to smartphones? I only committed through summer. Working for myself, I can design my life however I want. The answer might be never.

But I don't need to think about that right now.

Because where am I right now?

I am here.

And so our fable ends with an ellipsis...

About the Author

Kate Ellen is a recording artist working on her debut album in a genre she dubs ‘psyche-angelic’ and writes portal opening soundtrips for cosmic hitchhikers. You can also catch her at the Substack Stylist — creating visual branding and assets that turn newsletters into magnets for your wonderfully weird cross-section of people.