Reclaiming my attention

A few weeks back, I came across an article at the Guardian that made a claim affirming something I have felt for years now: "Your Attention Didn't Collapse. It Was Stolen."

As a child, my ability to concentrate was second to none. I spent hours and days in books, never even hearing people when they were trying to catch my attention - I wouldn't ignore them, it was just that nothing penetrated that wall of concentration when I was in the flow of a book or a project! This ability to concentrate was something I always took for granted, at school and at university and at work later on as well. 

But when social media became a thing, within a couple of years, my attention fractured. It wasn't that noticeable at first; as a single person, I didn't have that many obligations besides work and I really valued the ability to stay in touch with friends far and wide through Facebook (and they really were far and wide, as I'd moved around so much) and see what their day-to-day lives were through the little snippets shared on Facebook. I liked that a little snippet like that could give a real sense of day-to-day life, rather than a summary end-of-year letter; and because it was just shared for all to see, it didn't require specific emails to send to people. It seemed like an ideal platform for relating to friends.

But it evolved.

It moved onto my smartphone. 

That in itself wasn't so much of an issue, I don't think I would have obsessively checked in on my friends that much, but that was about the time I had my first child - and with that I discovered Facebook Groups. They were helpful, don't get me wrong: any questions I had about anything baby related, local family activities, challenges I faced: people in the groups had been through this, could offer insights and support, and they were there at all times of day and night (given that with a baby, I'd often post or read in the middle of the night!). During endless nursing sessions, I could scroll and follow all kinds of interesting rabbit trails, research things I found interesting, or receive and offer support to others. It was valuable.

It also sucked me in, though.

Apparently there's such a thing as "mummy brain", a forgetfulness that comes with having babies. Maybe that's the case. Having a baby certainly increases the mental load by several factors - so many things to be aware of, to keep in mind, to remember; something has to give! But at exactly this very time, even as the smartphone was helping me know what to do as a new mother, it also fractured my concentration and attention constantly. The news feed offers tidbits of this and that, each totally unrelated to the next, which feels a bit like eating a bite of cake and then a bite of salad and then a bite of shepherd's pie: just a little bit of it, superficial, quick, unsatisfying. That flittering from flower to flower like a bee that never sits down properly, and leaves the meadow hungry - that became my normal. 

When I tried to read books, suddenly my concentration wouldn't sustain my interest. Note of course that I was reading books on my smartphone's Kindle app, because most of my reading happened in bed with a baby in the dark, where a physical book just doesn't work - but of course, my subconscious knew perfectly well that I could easily switch over to Facebook or Instagram for a quick hit of the new notifications, a few tidbits of unrelated superficiality, just to give my concentrated brain a break. 

There, but not there.
I hated this photo Mr. took.

Fractures. Shards of fractured attention. 

This has been progressive in my experience - I found Facebook Groups for every interest I have, all interesting stuff to be sure, but put it all together into one newsfeed it became a cacaphony of noise. Every time I open the app there'd be new posts in the groups, oh here's something about baby's sleep behaviour, oh here's info about a local festival we want to go to, and so on. Always a reason to open the app, always something interesting (enough) to look at. So the hit was there every time I opened the app. And I opened it often! Not to check for anything specific, but because I knew something interesting (enough) would be there. And once open, I'd scroll and scroll - never an end - just flittering about the flowers, so to speak. Not stopping to go deep anywhere.

This affected my life.

I was never fully with my children. I'd document my children's special moments (using the phone camera) and pop that up on Instagram. Then, of course, for the hours following, I couldn't help checking for comments and likes - instead of fully engaging mentally with my children, who were the object of all this, I'd be on the phone! Not all the time, of course, but intermittently. Breaking up my quality time with the kids. Breaking my attention. Breaking my concentration.

I was setting a terrible example to my children. Do I want them to be on screens all the time? Certainly not! But why is there one rule for me and another for them? I was terrified that once they had their own screens, they'd be sucked in the way I was. I needed to get to grips with using the phone as a tool, rather than being stuck to it, so I could teach them to do the same when the time came. I was terribly aware that I was not in control at all.

I could no longer read books. I mean literally: even if I picked up a physical book, or the actual Kindle which doesn't have any smartphone features, after a few pages my concentration would be used up and I itched to relieve my brain from it through some mindless scrolling. Scrolling is undemanding, it's easy, it gives that little hit of 'oh interesting' but then I move on. 

I could not be bored for a minute without reflexively taking out my phone for a quick look - something, anything. Alone with my thoughts? Never.

I literally could no longer hear myself think!

That Guardian article took the unease I had felt for years, though not quite articulated, and brought it to the fore. I want my attention back! I next read "Digital Minimalism" by Cal Newport, and this gave me a real framework to work with. I really resonated with his assertion that I needed a philosophy of engaging with this stuff, rather than just a few tips like "turn off your notifications" which I had done years before. Tinkering with my notifications, moving the social media apps to a back screen, setting time limits, greyscaling my screen: all those hacks, I'd been playing with for years. They did not help. I needed to begin at the source: my values. What do I value? How can social media help me achieve the things I value? In short: how do I use social media without allowing it to use me?

I began by listing the things I absolutely could not do without Facebook. There's the admin of a local buyers group I do; there's the local home education group which really isn't accessible without Facebook. That's the list.

Everything else is optional:

• Seeing how friends are doing is not as important as it once was; to be fair, since the early days of Facebook this has really changed as people share not so much their lives as the things they find interesting, such as news articles, funny cat pictures and the like. I don't need to see these things. Yes, I'll miss events in friends' lives but those that are nearby I will find out in other ways, and those who are far off will share big events in year-end emails and such. So... optional.
• Sharing our own lives is optional. I had already pulled back significantly on sharing the children's pictures online (for their privacy) but I would still share things I wanted my friends to know, life events, funny things the kids said and so on. But again, the question is: why do I want them to know this? Does it really add value to their lives? Who is my audience, anyway, the people who matter? God, my family: they are who I'm here for. If I share something and then spend the next few hours half distracted by the social media feed's responses, I am actually taking myself out of the place I value most. That is not ok. I am done with it.
• Groups. I still think Groups can be valuable, people sharing interests and expertise; but I will use them for as and when I need them, rather than being engaged in them just because 'it's interesting'. 

So where am I now?

I'm following Cal Newport's suggestion of "decluttering" my mind by abstaining from all optional activities on my phone for 30 days. After the 30 days, he suggests slowly adding in the things I felt were really missing. It's been just over 10 days now and frankly I haven't missed a thing! The first week was hard, that constant urge to check the phone habitually, but this has subsided. I am making sure I consciously replace scrolling / checking time with activities I actually value: being present with my children, reading books, crocheting. 

On my phone, I've made some modifications too. I'm keeping the Instagram app because I use that to find workouts, but working out is the only time I open that app and use it. I've buried it in a group of workout-related apps.

I have uninstalled Facebook and am accessing it on my phone browser only, which I'm keeping on the "notifications" screen. So I never see my newsfeed; I have set the local buyers group and the home education group to send me a notification every time someone posts, so I can go directly there when I check and see what's relevant to me and nothing else. The only posts I make are links to my blog, which continues, and those of my friends who are interested enough in our lives can click and find out and be in touch this way.

And of course I intentionally choose not to look at the phone. Not to check more often than necessary. It's a choice, a mindfulness: moving away from what was my default thing to do in quiet moments is hard. It's a withdrawal of sorts. But 10 days into it I feel my ability to concentrate returning - I've been reading an interesting book on my Kindle, I've done some crocheting, I've been with my children and given them my full attention... and gradually, the urge to quickly check the phone is waning. 

I am getting my attention back.