HANDS FREE

My name is Malka, and I’m addicted to my phone. It’s been years. It would be clear to anyone who spends a day with me. Since no one has staged an intervention until now, I know I need to intervene on my own behalf. As our great sage Hillel says, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”

How do I know I’m addicted? When I wake up in the morning, the phone is the first thing I reach for. Ten years ago, the first thing I did was say Modeh Ani to thank Hashem for giving me back my soul and granting me another day. When I’m doing housework, whether it’s cooking or cleaning or menu planning, Netflix is on in the background. While my children are eating by the table, I’m biting into something by the counter, all the while scrolling through my Facebook feed for the fifth time in the same hour. If they ask a question, usually having to repeat it a second time because I wasn’t paying attention, I answer quickly without looking their way. When I get into my car, before driving, I check my phone for any missed calls, texts, WhatsApp messages, Facebook notifications, and Snapchat messages I may have, even though I just looked at my phone a minute earlier when stepping out of the house. When I arrive at my destination, I do all that checking again.

One day, as my daughter was trying to tell me something, I was answering her while my eyes were on my phone. She said, “Mommy, look at me.” Still, I said, “Uh huh,” and I kept my eyes on my phone. She said, “Mom, you’re not looking. Look at me.” I looked up and looked into her eyes. She smiled. I felt so much sadness in that moment that I was ready to cry.

Who am I? Why am I so obsessed with my phone? What was my life like before I had it? What did I do with all that time?

My kids and my home are well taken care of, but that’s not enough if I’m not even there. Physically, I’m standing there, but my mind is somewhere else. Judaism teaches us, you are where your mind is.

My days are passing by so quickly, and my children are growing up so fast. I remember making a resolution to step away from my phone when my oldest was 1 years old and then again when she was 3 years old. Now she’s 6. How much more will I miss? Do I really want to evaluate where I’m at 5 years from now and still be just as or even more addicted?

I wasn’t like this before. I valued my time. I tried to use as much as I could for my personal growth and for my family and community. I used to pay attention to what I was doing. Now, it seems I’d rather do anything to distract myself and keep my mind busy rather than to stop and just be there in the moment.

I want to be a Hands-Free Person, and especially a Hands-Free Mom.

My children look at me every day, and they will follow lead. How many times have we been taught that children do what they see? How can I be obsessed with my phone and expect them not to want a phone? How can I expect them to make eye contact when I speak with them if I don’t make eye contact when they speak with me? How can I expect them to give me their full attention if I don’t give them mine?

Go to a wedding nowadays. What happens when the bride walks down the aisle? How different was it 10 years ago? We used to watch the bride, and we were in the moment. We used to feel something.  Now all I see is many cell phones up in the air recording the moment. We’re not even there. We’re not even watching it directly. We are watching it off our cell phone screens. We feel that this moment is so special and worthy of being recorded, yet not special enough to watch and absorb in real life and truly be present in the moment? Does that even make sense?

When my daughter graduated kindergarten, the school hired a professional videographer to record the whole thing. Before the ceremony started, the director announced that parents can sit back and enjoy watching their children live, not through a phone or other recording device, because we will have the opportunity to watch the recording in the future. That hit me hard, and I was relieved she said those words out loud. It made me think about my daughter up on stage and how she would be looking at me the whole time. What would it feel like to see me fidgeting with a phone or video camera instead of really looking at her?

My friend told me a few weeks ago that when her children get home from school, she puts her phone away. It’s brilliant. I needed someone to answer to, so she became my accountability partner. When I pick my children up from the bus stop, my phone is away. I look at their faces when I greet them. Who knows what kind of day they had in school? Maybe it was a happy one where they succeeded in something and it boosted their self-esteem. Maybe it was an upsetting one where a bully humiliated them in front of everyone again. We don’t know. The only way we may find out is if we’re fully present when we are together. When I say the phones are away, I don’t mean on silent mode near us so we can see it light up as we get another notification. I mean on silent mode and face down in a drawer. After the children are in bed, the phones come out again and we text each other that the mission was completed.

This is my start. While I am not fully a Hands-Free Mom, just those few hours with them after school has already made a tremendous difference, greater than I thought. I will get better, I know. The first step is to get past the denial. Stop thinking you’re not addicted and can stop any time you want. If your phone is always with you, even when you visit the ladies’ room, take some time for introspection. Stop thinking there will be no negative effect on your relationships and no negative consequences in your life. We tend to think it’ll happen to others around us, but not us. The reality is that no one is immune.

Remember when we played tag as children? We’d run so fast, and just when we felt we couldn’t run anymore, we’d muster the strength to make it to the “base,” the designated pole or bench in the park that we could touch and no one would be able to tag us. Wouldn’t it be great if we were the “base” for our children? What happens if they look for the “base” but it’s turned away, absorbed by a phone? That gadget is a thief. Our children are being robbed of their parents, and we are letting it happen. What this thief takes, it can never return.

So what if we miss a call, text, WhatsApp message, or email? So what if we don’t scroll down our Facebook feed? So what if we don’t watch something as we’re doing household tasks? So what if we don’t turn on the phone the minute after Shabbat ends? So what if someone doesn’t reach us at the exact moment they are trying to? How about when we are sitting somewhere and have that first feeling of “now what?” Why do we reach for our phones right away? Why can’t we just be? Do we really need to bombard our mind with something at all times?

Maybe then we will have peace of mind. Maybe then we won’t feel like we’re losing time. Maybe then we’d get through tasks even faster and begin to enjoy the process and steps of what we’re doing. Maybe then we won’t feel guilty about not being present for our children. Maybe then we won’t feel irritated when they ask us questions or try to get our attention. Maybe then we’ll be better examples for them. Maybe then they will get the parents they deserve. Maybe we’ll be able to appreciate what we have more.

Life can only get better if we start actually showing up for it every day. Who’s with me?