Signs you are addicted to your phone & how to break free
My view in Koh Lipe.
It happens without thinking. The alarm goes off. You are still under the covers, your body not quite ready to move, still half asleep. Outside, a car drives past. A few birds chirp near the window. But the first thing you do? You reach for your phone.
It is not even a conscious decision. Your hand just moves. Maybe it starts with checking the time. Maybe there is a notification or two. Before you know it, you are scrolling through updates, headlines, messages—your brain full before your feet have even touched the floor.
You have not taken a breath. You have not had a single thought of your own. But you have already started reacting to the world. I do it too. Most of us have. Our phones are our alarms. Our clocks. Our calendars. They are always nearby, always on. The habit of checking them first thing in the morning has become so normal we barely notice it is a habit at all.
But over time, I have started to realise how much this one small action—this morning reflex—can shape the rest of my day. Not because phones are bad. But because what you give your attention to first matters.
There was a time when I was not doing it. Back in January, I was on holiday on the island of Koh Lipe in Thailand. Mornings started differently there. I would wake up to the sound of waves and the rustle of palm leaves outside. Sometimes animals were jumping on the roof of the cabana—monkeys, probably, though we never saw them.
I would make coffee with my new lifesaver—the Aeropress (if you are a coffee snob and travel and stay in a lot of hotels, you know). I would sit outside on our terrace. Potter around. No urgency. No notifications. Just space, before heading to the beach for breakfast.
And it felt good. Quietly good. Not in a dramatic, life-changing way. But enough to notice the difference. Enough to remember what it feels like to begin the day on my own terms.
When I returned home, I kept the habit going for a while. I left my phone out of the bedroom. I gave myself time to wake up before checking anything. But life picked up pace again—work trips, full days, emails before coffee. I started travelling more for work. And in hotel rooms, there are often only one or two power sockets, so the phone ended up back on the bedside table. Within arm's reach. Within reflex's reach.
The habit slipped. The scroll crept back in. Now I find myself somewhere in between. Some mornings I remember. Some mornings I do not.
But I have come to recognise the cost of starting the day with a screen. Not just in time, but in mental clarity. In emotional space. In the simple, often-forgotten feeling of waking up as yourself—before the world enters. Because the scroll does not just fill time. It fills YOU.
It adds noise to a moment that could be still. It pulls your attention before you have had a chance to decide where you want it to go. It makes it harder to hear yourself.
The effects of overuse are not always obvious, but they add up:
Feeling distracted before the day has even begun
Struggling to focus on a task that needs your full attention
Forgetting what you actually need, because you are already responding to what everyone else want
Feeling overstimulated and undernourished, all at once
And it is not just a morning thing. Phone use, for many of us, has become a constant reflex—something we do in every spare moment. In line at the supermarket. On the sofa while watching television. Even while walking from one room to another. It has become the default response to any pause, any discomfort, any moment of stillness.
If this sounds familiar, you are not alone. Phone habits are not a personal failing. They are the outcome of tools designed to keep us checking, refreshing, and returning. But recognising the pattern is the first step in reclaiming some of our attention.
Here are a few simple practices that can help reduce phone reliance beyond the morning:
Use grayscale mode: Switching your screen to black and white can make your phone less stimulating—and less tempting to scroll endlessly.
Create “no phone” zones: Meals, bathrooms, and the first and last 30 minutes of your day are great places to start. Keep your phone physically out of reach if you can.
Set app timers or limits: Use built-in screen time settings or apps like Freedom or Forest to gently cap your time on the apps that pull you in most.
Wear a watch: Many of us pick up our phone to check the time—and get pulled into ten other things. A watch can help break that loop.
Practice “do nothing” moments: Sit. Breathe. Look around. Let your mind wander. Being alone with your thoughts—even for one or two minutes—builds tolerance for stillness.
The good news? You do not need to overhaul your entire routine to shift the pattern. You just need to start small—and pay attention. Here are a few things that have helped me find a better rhythm. Not perfectly. But enough to feel the difference.
Leave your phone outside the bedroom: It is the simplest way to interrupt the habit. I use a basic alarm clock. The phone charges in another room. The lack of immediate access breaks the autopilot reflex.
Give yourself 10 quiet minutes: Start small. You do not need a full routine. Just a little space. Make coffee. Stretch. Sit in silence. Let your own thoughts arrive before the world's.
Turn off non-essential notifications: Most of them are not urgent. Most of them do not need you. The fewer interruptions you allow, the more you protect your attention.
Replace the scroll with something small: A short meditation. A few pages of a book. A quiet moment with your Kindle. Or even something physical—watering your plants, coffee on the terrace, opening the windows, taking a few breaths while you tidy up. Anything that helps you stay in your body and in the moment, rather than pulled straight into a screen.
Pay attention to when the urge to check your phone kicks in: Is it boredom? Stress? Avoidance? Sometimes we scroll not because we want to—but because we do not want to feel something else. That is okay. Just notice it.
When I started doing these things, I felt a shift. Not dramatic. But real. My mornings felt quieter. My brain less cluttered. My sense of self—stronger. But like any habit, it is easy to lose. Especially when life is full. Especially when we are tired. Especially when the phone is right there.
So if you are in that place—where you used to have the habit, but it slipped—I understand. This is not about guilt. It is about remembering. Remembering what it felt like to start the day slowly. To begin with breath, not bandwidth. To check in with yourself before checking in with everyone else.
Because you have had mornings that felt like yours. And you can have them again. Try airplane mode overnight. Try moving your phone across the room. Try giving yourself five minutes of stillness before checking anything. You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to be consistent right away. You just have to try.
Because the more often you choose a quiet start, the more easily it becomes your new normal. And slowly, you will start to notice: more calm. More clarity. More connection—to yourself, to your day, to what actually matters.
Not because you quit your phone. But because you stopped letting it run your morning.
