I'm working on my ability to sit and do nothing while ignoring my phone

When I was a kid, there were often long stretches of time when you had to sit and do nothing.

Like if you were taking a test in school and finished early, you had to fold your hands and stare into space until everyone else finished.

Or if your mom took you to the doctor, you had to sit in the waiting room and do just that – wait. If you weren't interested in reading one of the 500 copies of Highlights magazine strewn about the pediatrician's office, your only other option was simply to exist for several minutes until the nurse called your name.

I don't recall especially loving those times when I had no book to read, no game to play, and nothing stimulating to do. But the point is I did it, and I could do it because we all learned to do it out of necessity.

This is one of the few areas of life in which my 8-year-old self far surpasses my current 55-year-old self. Whereas in 1977 I was quite skilled at doing nothing, I have somewhere along the way completely lost that ability.

Nowadays, I need something to occupy my time and attention every waking moment. Several times a day, that means pulling my phone out of my pocket and either scrolling mindlessly through Facebook or playing a game.

I can't endure even the slightest bit of inactivity.

I was going to blame all of this on my phone, but the real culprit here is of course me. I have allowed myself to become addicted to smartphone time, and I don't know how to be rid of this dependence other than proactively forcing myself to do nothing for minutes at a time.

So that's what I do. When I catch myself reaching for my phone to fill "dead time," I sometimes hold back and instead just sit and think.

It can be miserable. I was at one time a very patient person, but now I get antsy if I'm not watching something, playing something, or checking something off my to-do list.

There is much value in simply existing and being mindful of your surroundings. I know this, but that doesn't mean it's easy for me. I struggle to truly relax.

Take this blog post, for example. I'm just about finished writing it and have no idea what I'm going to do next. I'm terrified that, a minute or two from now, I'll have no choice but to stare out the window.

I'm getting twitchy just thinking about it. Where's my phone?

I used to have an attention span before smartphones came along

I recently took my son Jack to get his second COVID vaccine. Afterward, as we were sitting in the observation area, I looked at the people around us.

At one point, every single person in that room except me was looking at their cell phone. And it's not like this was a room of relatively young people. The two nurse volunteers sitting up front both had to be well into their 60s, possibly their 70s, and their gazes were trained squarely on iPhones.

I don't say this to claim any sort of moral superiority, by the way. The only reason I wasn't on my phone at that moment was because I recently became aware of how addicted to this device I was, and I've been making a concerted effort to just sit and "be" during quiet moments, rather than checking Facebook or playing my Yahtzee app.

Because, you see, there used to be a time when we as a society were all pretty good at just sitting still and waiting. Before smartphones, you were often in situations when there was absolutely nothing to do for a period of time, for whatever reason, whether it was because you were sitting in a doctor's waiting room or were finished taking a test in school.

Somewhere along the way, though, I lost the ability to just patiently wait. All spare moments were spent on the phone.

Even now when I get a quiet moment, there's a real itch to grab my phone. So very often, I purposely resist the itch and just sit there.

I've found some benefit to this. Our brains tend to go go go all the time these days, and they're not necessarily wired for that. They need time for reflection, contemplation, and inward thought. Collectively, we're starving them of this sort of lower-level activity.

So I'm trying. Really, I'm trying.

The urge is still there to go on Twitter whenever I manage to free up a spare 37 seconds. And while I'm not sure if and when it will go away, I'll admit I'm really enjoying returning to the 1990s for short bursts of time.

You know, back when I possessed some modicum of patience.