I once gave up food for 16 days, surviving exclusively on lemon water sweetened with maple syrup while camping out in San Francisco. I lived in silence for three days during a spartan retreat in central Nepal. I deactivated my Instagram for three years after the whistleblower Frances Haugen disclosed how young girls were not being protected from harmful content on the platform.<\/p>\n
All of this is to say I have form when it comes to embracing an extreme. But removing all nonessential technology from my life for 30 days, which I decided to do this year in an effort to break my addiction to screens<\/a>, is a genuinely scary prospect. The scale of the challenge quickly becomes clear by my complete failure on day one.<\/p>\n It starts well. I strap an analogue watch on my wrist and put my phone, already wiped of every news and entertainment app, in the back of the car for a three-hour drive north. My first week of freedom from my six-by-three-inch personal time sink is going to be spent on holiday in Donegal<\/a> with my partner.<\/p>\n The roads are icy, and we travel in that dense silence specific to hazardous driving. With nothing to do other than look at the sparkling white snow lit up by the car\u2019s headlights, I arrive at Lough Mardal Eco Lodge calm and full of a happy wonder that makes me wish I read poetry.<\/p>\n After an evening in front of a wood fire, reading, chatting and eating, my confidence in the viability of the 30 days stretching ahead of me is growing. Oh the hubris. <\/p>\n At about 11pm, a UTI, which has been niggling all day, hits me with full force. By midnight I have abandoned all efforts at nondigital distraction and given in to the numbing effects of the internet. I definitely won\u2019t be writing about this, I think. With all of my apps gone, I resort to browsing American celebrity gossip sites until sleep finally comes, followed closely by pharmacy trading hours.<\/p>\n I write the day off as a practice round. My resolve is strengthened. At Lough Mardal the bedrooms are private off-grid yurts, with no electricity and a compost toilet. Its communal space is a magnificent cob roundhouse that is strictly screen- and gadget-free.<\/p>\n [\u00a0No Instagram, Netflix or YouTube: Can I survive a four-week digital detox?Opens in new window<\/a>\u00a0]<\/p>\n Grateful for the policy, I lock my phone away in the provided box. It\u2019s a perfect example of the concept of \u201csituational agency\u201d developed by Angela Duckworth, professor of psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. We can\u2019t change the fact that phones and screens dominate in so many places, but we are in control of what enters our own personal space.<\/p>\n \u201cWillpower is overrated,\u201d Duckworth wrote in a recent essay for the New York Times. \u201cPhysical distance creates psychological distance.\u201d<\/p>\n [\u00a0Saunas, cinemas and listening to albums: 25 ways to get off your phoneOpens in new window<\/a>\u00a0]<\/p>\n