Written by: Helen Dauka
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I’d like to preface this article with a brief disclaimer: I am unbelievably lucky to have the privilege to write an article about losing my smartphone, because it means I had one in the first place.
I’m even more lucky to be able to get a replacement from some independent seller on Amazon. I’m lucky to have my friends who put up with me bumming their phones for six days.
I lost my iPhone 4 over the weekend. What happened during the week following can only be described as what I imagine going through rehab is like.
Denial that you have a problem: My phone isn’t lost. It has to be at the bar. I just have to wait for it to open at noon. Maybe they just haven’t cleaned the whole bar yet.
Admitting you have a problem:
My phone IS NOT AT THE BAR.
Getting your next fix:
I need a phone and I need it NOW. I’m borrowing my friend’s phone, my eyes are peeled for phone booths. I never thought Maroon 5’s “Payphone” would be able to be interpreted literally in my life, but I guess you can’t see everything coming. (And for the record, there aren’t payphones anywhere convenient on campus.)
Withdrawal:
Everything is so much harder without a phone. It really requires a lot of planning. There’s no “text me later if you want to (insert activity).” You can’t be spontaneous. You can’t call at the last minute to cancel, or to get directions, or to ask for clarification on anything. It’s so frustrating. I’m sorry I’m on-edge; my life’s a little inconvenient right now.
Soul-searching:
You know, non-smartphone users are always bragging about how they hardly use their phones; they don’t need the perks of a smartphone; “Some people these days are addicted.” I never thought I was one of those people… but maybe I am.
But should I feel guilty? I’m still tackling this. I love my iPhone. I mean I loved my iPhone. Is there really anything wrong with my dependence on my phone? I’m surviving without it… not happily, but I am.
Occasionally during the day I’ll have this epiphany that living without a phone is so calming and relaxing. No one can bug you. Stress and worry can’t stalk you, unless it comes at you face-to-face.
But that moment passes, and I realize lthat iving without a phone is isolating. I can’t call my mom, and she can’t call me to give me the encouraging words only a mom has. My best friend from home can’t text me her big life news. This
is terrible.
Six days later, my new phone came in the mail.
