It’s time that I address my astronomically high levels of cell phone use. My phone is so often in my hand and such a part of my life that when I try to turn it off, it assumes that I’m in danger. “Powering off? You must be having a crisis. Did you mean to call 911 instead?”
Daily screen time reports tell the unflinching truth of just how often I pick up my phone for a quick reprieve from the monotony of the day only to find myself forty-five minutes deep into random internet videos.
One time I paused briefly while doing the dinner dishes to check my favorite app and wound up watching a documentary about a man who accidentally floated 16,000 feet in the air after tying helium balloons to a lawn chair.
In the moment, watching the documentary seemed like a smart use of time — it’s important to know how many balloons is too many when you’re tying them to a chair — but when I finally finished the video, it was already 9 p.m. and I still had a sink full of dishes.
I’m nervous about what that final screen time report is going to look like when I’m at the Pearly Gates. And I’m not talking about time spent on carpool texts and insurance emails. What I mean is the thousands of hours I’ve wasted on mindless scrolling.
I’m afraid St. Peter is going to ask me why I spent 3,452 hours watching videos of people getting their hair cut. Or 1,089 hours watching a man deep clean filthy carpets. Or 113 hours watching a French pastry chef make things like a giraffe and a suitcase out of chocolate.
St. Peter might point out that if he had simply watched videos of men fishing instead of actually fishing himself, he would’ve missed out on the greatest adventure in human history.
And he would be right. Watching people make sourdough bread, watching people work out, and watching people organize closets all amounts to just that — watching. Perhaps it’s time for me to be . . . well, doing.
Maybe, just maybe, there’s a far better adventure awaiting in 2025 if I cut down a bit on my phone use.
Maybe if I stepped away from that glass blowing video for two seconds, I could find something constructive to do with my own two hands that might be even more enjoyable than watching someone make a chandelier.
Maybe I could learn to crochet or paint or knit. Maybe I could make some progress on writing that book instead of watching authors talk about their own publishing successes. Maybe I could make my own chandelier.
Pulling myself out of digital quicksand is going to take some help.
Blessed Carlo Acutis, who will be canonized on April 27, seems like a perfect friend for the job. He was passionate about using technology to glorify the Lord. He used his talents to create a website documenting Eucharistic miracles around the world. And almost as admirably, he voluntarily kept his video gaming to an hour a week!
I could use his discipline when it comes to watching makeup tutorials.
So with eyes on the prize — the prize being a more adventurous year — I’m committing to a no-scroll 2025.
Ha! Just kidding, that’s impossible. I’m shooting for a less-scroll 2025.
My test will be when I want to watch a video, I’ll first have to justify it to St. Peter. If I can’t explain why I need to watch someone slice into a cake that looks like a sneaker right this instant, I can’t watch it.
I’m not sure what will happen when I scroll less.
With all that extra time, I might discover a new energy source, learn an ancient language, or even make a nice meal for my family.
The sky’s the limit according to last year’s screen time report.
Meg Matenaer is a wife, mom, social media writer, and author residing in the Diocese of Madison.