And they are killing us. Not in one dramatic, cinematic moment, but slowly, quietly, politely, while we thank them for it. They are killing our posture, our attention span, our comprehension, our self esteem, and our ability to sit across from another human being and actually be there. Not half there. Not scrolling. Not waiting for the next notification to buzz so we can escape the moment. They are killing our willingness to exist outside of an artificial digital space.
I know, I know. You are probably tired of me yelling that the sky is falling. Tired of me trying to warn you about something that feels too far gone to fix. Too late. Too normalized. Too deeply woven into daily life. But if I do not shout about the obvious, if I do not say the uncomfortable thing out loud, then I would not be me. I would just be another quiet participant, nodding along while pretending everything is fine.
How can I be this neurodivergent, autistic, ADHD empath and not warn you about the things I am already watching unfold. The same way I warned people five or ten years ago about the things they are complaining about today. The same things they laughed at or dismissed when I said them back then. I am not saying I am right about everything. I am saying the patterns are not subtle if you are paying attention.
You do not have to agree with me. In fact, most of you will not. But if you lifted your head up, kept your spine straight, and tried to put your phone down for a single day, I would bet money that most of you could not do it. Not without anxiety. Not without reaching for it out of habit. Not without feeling like you were missing something important, even though nothing would actually change.
Honestly, I hope one day disconnecting becomes a trend. Because trends are the only thing people collectively agree to participate in anymore. When everyone decides it is cool, then suddenly it is possible. And the funniest part is that it will be led by the same people who swear they are leaders, not followers. The loudest voices screaming individuality are usually the ones checking the internet to see how to dress, where to go, what to believe, and how to act. If it is trending, they are in.
At this point in life, I would bet that nearly ninety percent of people are actively living as NPCs. Moving from screen to screen. Reacting instead of choosing. Consuming instead of creating. Watching life instead of participating in it. When I write these blogs, I sometimes feel like an old man shaking his fist and yelling, “Get off my grass.” And maybe there is some truth to that. Most of my writing never even makes it online. It sits in drafts, half finished thoughts, or notes written at strange hours. Lately, I am trying not to hold back as much. I set a new goal for myself to eventually turn all of this into a book.
But forget I said that. I do not like announcing my next move. Neither should you.
Anyway. Back to the phones.
They are ruining us.
I cannot remember the last time, in the last four years, that I saw someone genuinely disconnect. Not for content. Not for aesthetics. Not to post about it later. Truly disconnect. The more time passed, the better I got at it. So good that it completely altered my world and my relationships. Some changes were good. Some were bad. Some were ugly.
Isolation can be a gift. It can sharpen you. It can force you inward. But from the outside, it looks like a curse when everyone else is tuned into the same frequency and you are not. When the entire world is vibing together on one endless feed, stepping away feels like exile.
These days I am trying to allow myself a little more phone time because I alienated myself so deeply that I started to feel almost monkish. Like I had stepped out of modern life entirely. Still, I want to take a stance. I want to remind people that we need to be physically present again. We need to communicate face to face. We need eye contact, silence, awkward pauses, and unfiltered laughter.
Life is short. Shorter than we want to admit. One day you will realize that the last time you “talked” to someone was a double tap, a reaction, or a comment buried under a thousand others. I do not want to be part of that. Especially not when I come from a time when phones were optional, not extensions of our nervous systems.
I know my friends and family probably hate this about me. The irony is that I doubt most of them even read what I write. They do not take the time to understand the why behind my choices. And honestly, that is enough for me to stop caring how they feel about it. Because if someone does not care what you say, or why you do what you do, why are you expected to bend for them?
If you are the friend who always reaches out first, always calls first, always texts first, and when you stop nothing comes back, that is your answer. That silence is the message. Take it as a sign to move forward. Not out of bitterness, but out of self respect.
Let time pass. They will notice eventually. They always do. And when they reach out after a long gap, you may realize you are no longer in that phase of your life. You may have already met people who show up without reminders. People who talk in person. People who are present. People who do not need a double tap or a comment section to prove connection.
That is what real connection feels like.
So the next time you are feeling low, stagnant, or stuck comparing yourself to strangers, take a look at the thing in your hand. The thing you let lull you to sleep. The thing you reach for before your feet hit the floor in the morning. It might not be the only problem, but it is definitely not helping.
And if you have children, I feel especially sorry for them. Not because of technology itself, but because they may never fully know how cool their parents were before the devices. Before the constant distraction. Before attention became fragmented and outsourced. Before boredom sparked imagination instead of panic.
Put the phones down.
Not forever. Just long enough to remember who you were without them.
Hope this helps,
-B
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