The Ugly Truth: We are All Addicted to Our F*** Smartphones
A Story About Our Modern Dilemma: Adults Addicted, Children Losing Their Childhood, My Narcissistic Ex-Partner, and the Freedom of Being Offline
August 11th
Our smartphones have become an extension of ourselves. It is the first thing we reach for in the morning and the last thing we glance at before bed - sometimes even in the middle of the night - is that small, glowing screen. If you’re anything like me, you’re guilty as charged. But let’s pause for a moment and ask ourselves: isn’t this just nuts?
I grew up in a time when the telephone was a physical object - solid, tethered by a cord, with a rotary dial at my grandparents' place (see image above). It was a time when making a call wasn’t just a casual gesture; it was an event. That phone, leased from Deutsche Telekom, was our lifeline to the world, and it was outrageously expensive to use. If you needed to call someone while out and about, you had better have a pocketful of coins—and good luck finding an intact phone book in those public phone booths, often victims of mischief. And then, an innovation: the prepaid card. Suddenly, the coin problem was solved. But even then, if you wanted to meet someone, you planned it out—a week in advance, no less—nailing down the date, time, and place. If you were late, even by 20 minutes, the other person would be livid. Punctuality, especially in Germany, isn’t just a courtesy; it is a rule.
Ah, yes the good old days… and yes, that makes me an old fart.
Today, I can barely remember more than three phone numbers: mine, my mother’s, and my late dad’s. The rest? All stored on that little device I carry everywhere, like a digital appendage. I listen to music, podcasts, talk to people, read emails, scroll through social media, do my banking, and more—often trying to juggle it all at once, even though I know it doesn’t really work. When I want to meet someone now, it’s, “Sure, let’s hang out next week. I’ll text you closer to the day.” And what happens? Either one of us forgets, or something better comes up, and one of us cancels. Or we meet up an hour late but think it’s all fine because we texted five minutes before. Sound familiar? I assume I’m not alone in this—if you’re different, please, tell me in the comments and restore my faith in humanity.
That brings me to a conversation I had with my seven-year-old son this morning. He told me that my narcissitic ex-partner—first time I’ve used the term “ex-partner” and I must admit, it feels pretty good—wants to buy him a flip phone. Now, I’m relieved it’s not a smartphone, but still, what does a seven-year-old need with a phone to be honest? He’s not allowed to go anywhere without an adult, so why the necessity? I can’t help but wonder what
, author of The Anxious Generation (here on Substack with ), would say about this. I’m going to try and put my foot down on this one, but I don’t have much hope. It feels like just another way for her to exert control.Last weekend, I took my son to his school fair. We did some rides together, and then he asked if he could go on a ride with his friend. Now, we’re at his school, surrounded by teachers, friends, and family. It’s a safe environment, so I said yes, gave him ten bucks for a drink or ice cream, and told him where I’d be. It felt like a good step towards teaching him independence, a chance to be a bit less of a helicopter parent. But wouldn’t you know it, five minutes later, my ex shows up, asking where our son is, why I left him alone, why I’m not with him. Ten minutes later, I get a text: “He was alone with his friend without a parent.” It’s frustrating beyond belief. I’m trying to let my son grow, to let him breathe, but it feels like she’s trying to neuter him before he can even defend himself.
Just yesterday, we had another spat. She was going to take a shower and asked me to “watch” the kids. I said sure, I’d take them, and they were playing in my older son’s room, but I won’t go and watch them in his room - if something happens sure I will hear it. And boom, a fight she wants me to watch them 24/7. Am I wrong here? Or is this just plain nuts?
I told her she’s going to raise immature children with this behaviour. She fired back with the school fair incident. But let’s be real here - things are safer now than they were 30 years ago when we played outside without supervision, ALL THE TIME. She ignored me, of course. Unfortunately, I know she won’t change, it’s hopeless, she’s a narcissist.
I’ve been thinking on all of this, and I stumbled upon something intriguing. I was listening to a BBC podcast on my way to a morning run, and they mentioned the Amsterdam Offline Club. The idea is brilliant. Here I am, always glued to my phone, and I thought, let’s try something different. So, I went for a run without earphones, without music - just me and my thoughts
And you know what? It was amazing. I ran along the beach near my house, a windy, wet 5 km. Everything was alive with sounds: dogs barking, seagulls crying, waves crashing. And then, there were my thoughts - those pesky, sometimes frightening thoughts. But it felt good to face them, to actually listen. I even came up with a new idea I’m eager to try out. It was my offline moment, my “me time.” Next time, I’ll leave my phone in the car. I promise.
And the best part? The narc can’t text or call me then… well, she can, but I’ll be offline.
Walter
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