Nomophobia

The wife says we spend too much time on our cell phones.  When visiting our grandchildren we are placed on a strict “no cell phones” diet.  By the time I retired from the ministry with its weekly worship service, I had grown tired of the cell phone interruptions in the middle of the sermon.  During my commute to my job at the university I am amazed at the number of drivers on their cell phones--I would say close to fifty percent of the drivers.  I should know because I got off my cell phone and counted them while driving.

 

Cell phones are everywhere, and they are becoming a bane to humanity.  If that sounds too brash of a statement, then I will claim it for myself and leave the rest of humanity out of it.  But I think there are a lot who would agree with me—it is a crisis boiling.

 

Looking on my cell phone, I discovered that the average American spends five hours and 24 minutes on their phones every day.  Fifty-seven percent of Americans consider themselves as “phone addicts”.  Another word for that is nomophobia.  Half of the Internet traffic (50.55%) comes from mobile phones.  An average American checks their phone around 96 times a day.

 

Nearly five-and-a-half hours!  That is a big chunk of the day . . . a big chunk of life when added up over a lifetime.  Consider that we humans need at least eight hours of sleep, work an average of eight hours, spend at least an hour eating, have numerous hours dedicated to exercising, relaxing, doing chores, and whatever else we can get done—all in a 24-hour period.  There are not enough hours in a day—yet we find time for 5.5 cell time.

 

Something has got to give.  Thus, the conversation on our cell phone usage between the wife and me.  Of course, being 100% male, I went on the defense when there is a perceived criticism.  There is no way I wallow for five-and-a-half hours on my phone a day.  I am better than that.  Shoot!  At the most I might only be on the phone for an hour or two (Wink!  Wink!)  In fact, I can prove it.

 

All cell phones have built-in applications (apps) that can do just about anything but feed the pets.  On cell phones there is an app that congregates usage.  The app measures how much time the user is spending on the cell.  It even breaks it down into categories according to the apps used and viewed.  All one must do is turn it on and the truth will be revealed.  Knowing that, I will stick to my façade and leave it at that.  I am not ready for the truth.

 

The problem is not just for my wife and me.  The problem is everywhere.  It is now becoming the reason for the downfall of civility and civilization according to many.  It affects everyone.  Sit in a public space and see for yourself . . . count the people with their faces planting squarely in their cell phones.  The problem is real . . . and the wife wanted a serious conversation about it.

 

One of the suggestions floating around is that folks schedule themselves a holiday away from their cell phones.  A recess.  A sabbatical.  A vacation.  Just put the cell phone away.  Take a break.  The wife thought this was a great idea and was raring to jump on the bandwagon.

 

I cringed at the idea.

 

Even though I do not see myself as having a problem with screen time, the suggestion of turning off my cell phone for any length of time makes me anxious.  It is a big challenge.  Going cold turkey.  I shudder and shake just thinking about it.  My wife got that look on her face as she stared me down—addiction!  Nomophobia!

 

Okay, I admit . . . I see my cell phone as a useful tool.  It is a sort of technological Swiss Army knife—it does everything!  It does so much for me on a daily basis:

·        Mail . . . or in this case, email.  I have both my personal and work email accounts connected to my phone.  I check both on a regular basis—morning, noon, and night each and every day.  I never know when I might receive something important.  How else am I going to know when that widow of a British officer sends me a million-dollar gift if I just work with the Ethiopian lawyer to make all the arrangements.  Or the countless offers and announcements that I have won the Loser’s Lottery.  Or the many invoices for products that I never ordered.  Countless newsletters that I have no idea how I signed up for them.  Even proposals for marriage.  Even, on occasion, real emails needing my attention.  Heavens knows what life would be like without my two hundred plus emails a day.

·        Text messages . . . though few and far between, I do get them.  Typically, they are from family . . . children sending a joke or vague message, the wife sending silly video clips and links to products she thinks “we” need.  Without my cell phone how would I keep in touch?

·        Facebook and Instagram.  Where else am I going to learn about the fantastic, alluring, and excitement infused adventures of the hand-full of friends I have?  Where else can I read their political rants, their “Jesus saves” messages, and see cute puppy dog postings?  Or pictures of children and grandchildren—all above average?  To see how much better everyone else’s lives are better than mine.  Plus, all those memes and video clips called “reels”!  All the false news!  My life is incomplete without Facebook, Instagram, and whatever is the hottest social media.

·        Games.  Though most of the games on my phone are there for the grandchildren, I do have a few games that are just for me.  They are there for my intellectual development and wellness of the mind.  At least that is what the advertisements for the games tell me.  If I play these games, I will live longer.  Who doesn’t want to live longer?  Without my cell phone and its games . . . well, I see the end coming sooner than later.

·        Apps.  These little boogers have made my life easier.  I have an app that: tells time, weather, road conditions, what my heart rate is, how many steps I have taken, how many calories I have eaten and burned, how to get places (complete with maps and verbal directions), provide entertainment like shows and movies, plays music, finds out information, dictionaries, critter identification . . . shoot!  My phone is practically a library.  I’d have to rent a truck to haul all this information around.  And it’s all on my little old phone.

·        Camera.  I’m Johnny on the spot with the camera on my phone.  I can take pictures and make videos.  I can capture the moment.  Provide live-up-to-the-minute visual proof.  Besides I can also share with everyone what I have eaten morning, noon, and night.  Who am I to deprive anyone of that pleasure?

·        Internet.  My cell phone is a computer hooked up to the Worldwide Web.  It is my source of all knowledge and information known and unknown to humanity.  It is my fact-checker.  It is my resource for all those inquiring questions . . . like, how many hours does the average American spend on their cell phone?  What is nomophobia?  Without my cell phone I’d be an idiot and could run for political office.

·        Calls.  Plus, I can actually make phone calls with my cell.  It lets me reach out and touch someone.  I can do it like a regular phone call or like Dick Tracy or the Jetson through video.  How cool is that!  Let’s me call all ten of the ones I love.  Imagine that . . . a cell phone that is actually a phone!

And it lets me do so much more.  Plus, it fits in the palm of my hand, and I can carry it in my pants pocket.  How could I ever live without this useful, resourceful, life improving tool?  How did I ever manage before there were cell phones?

 

I don’t know.  I can’t imagine my life without it.  Well, yes, I can . . . bleak.  Now do you understand my anxiousness in surrendering my phone for any length of time.  How would I ever validate myself as a contributing member of society . . . or at least to the cell phone companies.

 

True, five-and-a-half hours is a huge chunk of my day.  Surely, I can give something up.  I could sleep less . . . maybe four hours instead of eight.  What’s a little sleep deprivation?  I could throw away that hour I spend eating.  Besides, I need to lose a little weight.  I could quit or retire completely from work.  That would free up a whole bunch of hours.  Who needs things—food, shelter?  Surely, there is some way I could free up my life to incorporate five-and-a-half hours on a daily basis.

 

Oh no!

 

Look at me!

 

I am nomophobic . . . I am addicted!  The signs are all there.  First, there was the denial.  Then came the rationalization.  Next was bargaining.  There were physical signs . . . shuddering and shaking . . . anxiousness.

 

Oh my God!  I am addicted!

It is true.  Intervention might be my only hope.  Rehab might be needed.  Send me to the Elon Musk Nomophobia Treatment Center on the moon.  Oh, the shame!  Oh, the guilt!

 

Wait a minute . . . my phone is ringing.  There I go again.  I’m a backslider.  Is there any hope for me?  Give me a minute and I will see what my phone says . . . oops!  Maybe it is not that big of an issue, after all . . . everyone is doing it.  Also, my phone tells me that denial is the number one pastime of Americans.  My phone never lies to me.  It is my friend.  Just ask Seri, she will tell you.

 

Maybe say a prayer for me . . . for everyone.  I am sure you can find one on your phone.

 

Misunderstood

As an introvert I have spent a lifetime being misunderstood.  I am not weird.

My sister gave me a hoodie several years ago with a simple phrase across the chest.  It said, “Eww, people”.  I love that sweatshirt.  During the pandemic I was part of a virtual meeting and not thinking, I was wearing that sweatshirt.  Working from home at that time, I didn’t realize what I was wearing.  My boss did and I got an earful following that meeting.  It was inappropriate and gave a misunderstood message to all the other attendees.  It was difficult to sit down the rest of the day.

 

I love that hoodie.  I do not “hate” people.  No, far from it.  I actually love the human race.  I made my living serving people as a pastor for over forty years.  I love people . . . but, if I had a choice, I would prefer being alone to being with people.  Introverts are that way.  Where extroverts get energized by people, introverts get drained.  As I said, I was a pastor for over forty years.  So was my wife.  When we got home from our respective congregations and worship on Sunday mornings, she wanted to fix a big dinner and talk.  I wanted to nap and be silent.

 

Don’t assume that just because I am an introvert and wear a hoodie with “Eww, people” emblazoned across the front that I am anti-people.  I am not.  I just like my people in small numbers (really small numbers) for short periods of time.  I am not anti-social.  I am an introvert.

 

Introverts enjoy silence and alone time.  This is something that extraverts don’t seem to understand.  It is estimated that two-thirds of the world’s population is extroverted.  This tendency towards silence and being alone is often viewed negatively by the more exuberant extroverts.  It is not . . . silence and being alone is where introverts thrive.  So, cut us some slack.  Forgive us if we don’t answer the doorbell or the first knock because you want to visit unexpectedly.  Remember you are coming unannounced to invade our sanctuary of solitude.  Warn us you are coming.  Give us time to prepare . . . or leave town.  Just don’t come knocking on our doors expecting to be greeted with open arms. 

 

Same with phones.  Introverts dislike phones because they too interrupt the solitude of our sanctuaries.  On the Myers-Briggs Personality Inventory test that is used to determine personality type—including introversion/extroversion—one of the main questions is: When the phone rings do you: (A) answer it immediately, or (B) let it ring until someone else answers it.  I always hoped that someone else would answer it.  Now with cell phones the introvert can screen calls.  If it ain’t an emergency—leave a message.  Or text.  Phone calls require a lot of emotional energy for introverts.  For introverts phone calls are annoying.  Who wants to talk to an annoyed person—text and be safe.

 

Another annoyance for introverts comes in the area of communication.  Introverts can talk . . . can communicate despite what seems to be to the contrary.  Take note:

1.   Introverts don’t like small talk.  Conversations take time and energy.  Introverts prefer conversations that allow them to go deeper in relationships with other people.  Talk of the weather or the latest sports score is tedious, draining, and even annoying.  Introverts are tolerant folks and realize that small talk is a part of socialization.  That is probably why they don’t socialize too much.

2.   Interruptions.  If you are talking to an introvert, then let them speak.  Introverts typically think before they speak.  Give them time.  Try not to interrupt them.  Don’t fill in the silent pauses.  Don’t change the subject before they’ve had a chance to respond.  Extroverts don’t like silence, so they are constantly interrupting—DON’T!  Introverts can speak if given the chance.  I know it is hard for extroverts to be patient and do this, but they can do it.

One of the greatest misconceptions I confront in my life as an introvert is when it comes to “space”.   I value “my space” whether it is physical, psychological, or spiritual.  I need my “space”.  Extroverts do not understand this concept of “space” because the whole world is a playground for social interaction.  Introverts need their own “space” to recharge, regroup, and center themselves—alone.

I live in what I consider a spacious house—five bedrooms, living room, kitchen, laundry room, family room, and two bathrooms.  Plenty of room for my wife and me.  You would think that “space” would not be an issue with us.  But remember, my spouse is an extrovert.  The house is her domain and playground. Most of the house and its décor reflect her and her extroversion.  Plus, she is always where I am in the house wanting to talk and interact.  It is draining!

 

In John Prine’s song, Angel from Montgomery, he sings these lyrics:

 

How the hell can a person

Go to work in the morning

And come home in the evening

And have nothing to say?

 

Because they are introverts!

 

Fortunately, my wife understands, and I have been graced with a room of my own—a sanctuary.  It is not a “man cave”.  The family calls it my “office”.  It is lined with books, sentimental pictures on the walls, and my computer. And there is no television or radio.  There is Alexa, but she lost her voice long ago as she is always upstairs talking to my wife.  This is my sanctuary.  My place of peace.  My silent domain.  Often the family forgets that I’m even home because it is so quiet. But that is how I like it despite the music blaring. the television ranting, and people wanting to talk.  I am granted this gift because those who know me know that if John ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.  Even our dogs respect this.

 

The only place of sanctuary in the house is the bathroom.  Often, I can hide away in the quiet stillness of the bathroom to regroup and re-energize.  I go in, shut and lock the door, and take a seat.  Sometimes I read a book.  Sometimes I just sit and think.  Whatever the case, there is silence, and I am alone.  Of course, the bathroom also serves other purposes and can be in demand.  I have learned to respect a sudden knock on the door with the question, “Are you okay in there?”  Sure, give me five more minutes and life will be good.  I think the family thinks I am constipated.  I am not, I am an introvert.

 

And . . . that’s it.  I am not weird.  Not strange.  I am an introvert.  And, if you ask another introvert, they will tell you that I am quite normal.  I am misunderstood.  Two-thirds of the world looks at introverts as aliens invading their world . . . or being party poopers running away from the festivities.  But we introverts are normal . . . we just need our peace and quiet.  Give us that and you’d be surprised at how different we can be in a social context . . . as long it is it only a few people, doesn’t involve a lot of time, and we are given fair warning.  We can have as much fun as anyone else.  Trust me, I know.  I’ve done it a few times. I survived.  Everyone survived.  It’s been a couple of years, but I think I’m about ready to try again.  I am not weird, I am misunderstood.  I am an introvert.