Digital Detox Disaster: I Unplugged for a Weekend and Made Eye Contact With My Feelings.

Have you ever tried to “disconnect” for a weekend?

No phone. No Instagram. No Google. No TikTok tutorials on how to braid your eyebrows.

Just… you. And silence. And your raw, unfiltered thoughts.

I did it once.

It changed me.

Mostly by making me realise I’m 12% human and 88% phone battery anxiety.

This is the story of my chaotic, uncomfortable, kind-of-magical attempt to do a digital detox—and why it felt like both a nervous breakdown and a spiritual rebirth.

The Great Idea (That I Immediately Regretted)

It started innocently enough. I watched one too many wellness influencers sipping green things and saying stuff like:

“You need to create space to rediscover your inner peace.”

My inner peace was clearly hiding under a pile of open tabs and notification bubbles, so I decided to follow their lead.

The plan:

No screens.

No Wi-Fi.

No social media.

No Googling symptoms. (Goodbye, “is it a rash or guilt?”)

Just me, a journal, and a weekend to “reset my soul”.

Spoiler: I did not find my soul. I found 47 ways to annoy myself.

Hour 1: Optimism and Granola

I woke up Saturday morning full of hope, wearing cosy socks and sipping herbal tea like a Pinterest board.

“This is going to be transformative,” I said out loud, like a person in a documentary who’s definitely about to cry in Act 2.

I turned off my phone and placed it gently in a drawer, as if burying a tiny metal friend.

The silence was immediate. And eerie.

I lit a candle. I picked up my journal. I stared thoughtfully at the page.

Nothing.

Turns out, without distractions, my brain just plays elevator music.

Hour 2: The Spiral Begins

I tried reading a book. But every two pages, I reached for my phone—out of phantom thumb syndrome.

You know that thing where your hand moves by itself like it’s possessed and tries to refresh Instagram even though you JUST swore off Instagram?

That happened 17 times. In ten minutes.

I walked around my apartment aimlessly. I arranged my books by colour. I watered plants that weren’t thirsty.

I even considered dusting. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

Hours 3–5: The Existential Vortex

The stillness started whispering.

Suddenly I was reflecting on:

My life choices

Why I text “lol” even when I’m not laughing

That one awkward thing I said at a party five years ago

Without Twitter to scroll or emails to check, my brain decided to schedule a full emotional performance review.

It was like therapy. But without the couch. Or coping mechanisms.

I wrote three pages in my journal titled, “Who Am I Without Wi-Fi?”

None of it was coherent. All of it was dramatic.

Hour 6: The Return of Boredom (And Its Friend, Mild Panic)

By late afternoon, I was pacing.

I had already:

Rearranged my furniture

Drank 4 cups of calming tea (I was aggressively calm)

Named my houseplants (Meet Kevin, Susan, and Emotional Support Fern)

I was this close to making eye contact with the neighbour’s cat and asking it deep philosophical questions like, “Do you feel joy, or just fur?”

I had become that person.

Hour 12: The Detox Dilemma

Night fell. That’s when things got weird.

No Netflix. No YouTube. No phone to light up my face like a moth near a soft blue flame.

I tried to meditate, but all I could think was:

“Am I missing a group chat emergency? Is Rihanna dropping an album? Did someone post a new ‘cosy vibes’ playlist?!”

The FOMO was intense.

I suddenly missed ads.

I missed autocorrect.

I missed the validation of strangers online saying, “OMG, so true 😭💯.”

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, whispering, “Entertain me.”

It did not.

Day 2: Something Unexpected

And then… Sunday came.

And weirdly?

It got better.

I woke up and didn’t grab my phone.

Because I couldn’t.

So I stretched. I actually tasted my coffee. I sat outside. I noticed things.

Like how quiet mornings can be. How birds are kind of annoying but also very committed to their craft.

I wrote. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

I didn’t post it. I didn’t hashtag it.

I just let my thoughts exist without a like button.

It felt… refreshing.

Also terrifying. But mostly refreshing.

What I Learned (Between Panic Attacks and Plant Conversations) Here’s the thing:

Digital detoxing isn’t about hating technology.

It’s about giving your brain a chance to breathe.

When you remove the constant noise, you start to hear things—your thoughts, your boredom, your actual self.

It’s deeply uncomfortable at first.

Because we’re so used to avoiding ourselves with little dopamine hits.

But once you push past the twitchy, phone-shaped hole in your soul… you might actually discover:

Ideas you forgot you had

Emotions you’ve been avoiding

That your ceiling has a crack shaped like a llama (just me?)

Will I Do It Again?

Yes.

But next time, I’ll prepare better.

And maybe allow one emergency Google search, because I did burn my soup trying to guess the time.

How to Try a Digital Detox (Without Screaming Into the Void)

1. Start Small

Try 2–4 hours before jumping into a full weekend. Especially if you’re the type who panics when your phone hits 99%.

2. Tell People You’re Going Offline

Otherwise, your aunt will report you missing on Facebook.

3. Have a Plan

Line up books, journals, snacks, walks, or a puzzle you’ll regret starting but feel obligated to finish.

4. Expect Boredom

It’s part of the magic. Let your brain yawn a little.

5. Don’t Judge Yourself

If you accidentally talk to your plants or cry into your teacup, congratulations—you’re doing it right.

TL;DR:

I tried a digital detox.

I went through the five stages of phone withdrawal.

I made eye contact with my own thoughts.

I kind of loved it. Eventually.

Would I recommend it?

Yes.

Will it be awkward, weird, and slightly emotional?

Also yes.

But hey—every once in a while, it’s good to unplug and just… be.

Even if “being” involves staring at a fern and questioning your whole personality.