On the first night of a three-day senior retreat, a student stopped me to say, “I wasn’t too happy when you took away our phones earlier.” As he took a breath before continuing, I steeled myself for the potential complaint coming. “But,” he said, “I noticed that I’m already feeling less anxious. It’s making me think about what changes I might want to make when I get my phone back.”
For more than a decade, it has been our practice to have the students take a break from their phones on their senior retreat. Some years this practice has been met with immediate complaints about how they are missing many important things that demand their immediate attention. Recently, however, I have noticed a change in our students’ reactions. Many are now welcoming the break from the constant influx of information and the reconnection with one another that break provides.
After the student walked away, I looked down at the phone that I had been clutching in my hand during our short conversation. As the retreat director, I need my phone constantly to be sure everything is running smoothly. Or at least that’s what I always tell myself. But that student gave me something to think about.
I have limitless excuses as to why I need my phone constantly, both on retreat and in everyday life. After all, it’s how I check for weather alerts to make sure my children and I are dressed appropriately each day. It’s how I keep up with the developing news stories throughout the world and how I can search for ways I can help. I access reflections that focus my prayer and get alerted to new publications from Rome or from the Jesuits that assist me in my work. Having my phone readily available also helps me capture the creativity that hits me at random moments.
Lately, however, I am feeling some of the same anxiety that the student described. Being inundated constantly with news, most of which is not good, has me on edge. Alerts popping up from my e-mail, text messages, and social media sites at all times distract me more than I want to admit. Still, giving up my phone completely does not feel like the right answer. After all, the device does help me in my day-to-day activities, and being an active participant in the world means I do need to know what is going on in it.
How do I seek balance and still access the benefits of my phone? How do I protect my mental health while still being an active participant in the world?
There are three things I am going to try this Lent that might help me strike the balance I’m seeking:
- Auditing my notifications—Over time, I have given permission to many apps to notify me and demand my attention. I plan on disabling all notifications but text messages for at least the Lenten season.
- Auditing the apps on my phone—My phone currently has four or five screens of folders of apps, most of them social media or shopping apps. I plan to reflect on which apps are helping me become the person God is calling me to be and which ones are doing the opposite and keep only the first set on my phone.
- Obeying my “sleep” mode—A year or so ago, I put a sleep mode on all my devices, shutting off notifications and access at 8 p.m. each night. Recently, I have been turning on my phone again when I can’t sleep and checking my e-mail and social media apps for news. I plan on recommitting to my sleep mode, even if it means that I have to find a new place for my phone to rest at night.
My hope is that these three actions will not only decrease my own anxiety but also help me be more attentive to those around me that need my attention. Above all, I hope that doing these three things will help increase my attentiveness to my relationship with Jesus.
What small steps can you take to increase your attentiveness to Jesus and others this Lenten season?
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