A friend in college, herself a doctorate student, once told me about her work on the role of cyborgs in literature. She said she was studying these part humans, part machines because, as a society, our technology was quickly becoming an extension of our physical selves.
At the time, the early 2010s, this concept sounded theoretical and interesting, but highly academic and like faraway science fiction. But now, as a thirty-something in 2025, I can see how tangible her hypothesis was. I must admit I feel like I've become part human, part smartphone.
It’s very rare for me to see myself or anyone around me without their phone in their hand, pocket or within eyesight. While sitting down for a meal, we glance at our locked screens to check for any new notifications, or just subconsciously tap the screen out of habit. In elevators, in waiting rooms, anywhere with more than 30 seconds of idle time, we scroll through apps, games or photos, filling the empty time with visual stimulation.
Our phones keep us connected to work, to family, and to life-altering news such as a job interview, visa acceptance or friend request from someone known long ago. With our lives literally happening on our devices, how could we be expected to keep them away?
As a new mother, I’ve become inevitably more aware of my habits and how they are replicated by the little ones around me. My daughter, a toddler, loves to take photos on my phone. She likes to pretend she’s having conversations. And of course she video-chats with her grandparents, aunts and uncles.
I try absolutely as best I can not to doom-scroll in front of her but, as children are attached at their parents’ hips, I can only make an effort for so long before I slip. She likes to put something square next to the water bottle on her bedside table at night to mimic mama and baba and our nightstand set-ups.
As a social media editor, I spend my working day online, looking at trends and transforming news into social-friendly formats. By the end of the day, it sometimes feels like my eyes have run out of juice and it hurts to even blink. Additional screentime after work has started to take a toll on my health – both mental and physical.
Evenings and mornings are the only time of the day I can call my family living in the US due to the time difference between there and Abu Dhabi, but lately I’ve had to make a conscious effort to put my phone down when I get home – and not pick it up until after I’ve put my two children to bed.
In the process, I’ve quickly come to notice how much clearer my mind feels from this intentional disconnect. I’m able to focus more clearly on being present around my daughters, and I feel more in control by not letting the notifications dictate my attention.
I’m trying hard to disconnect – so I can feel more connected.
