I was born in 1980, hanging on the tail end of what is now called Gen-X.

I grew up with a computer in my house. My dad and brother were on it all the time. I liked playing a game where you decorated a Christmas tree, and when finished, triggered a Christmas song. I wasn’t artistic enough to use MS Paint. Beyond that, I didn’t have much use for computers until a friend of mine introduced me to the internet when we were 17. We, of course, spent hours in chat rooms talking to complete strangers. We were so naive. What a time to be alive.

If you haven’t noticed, nostalgia for the 90s is raging. From fashion to entertainment, many of us are looking back at a time when cell phones did not exist, and computers mostly stayed in the family living room. Nostalgia has a powerful pull. And, yeah, if I were going to cheerfully relish any time period, it would be the 90s. But nostalgia, by itself, isn’t useful. I try not to sit there for long (but I enjoy the music while I’m there!).

Something has been nagging me for a while. In the 90s, we had something then that the majority of us would lose in the coming years, and it’s something we haven’t been able to regain since the invention of smartphones and social media: Distance. If I wanted to access the internet, I didn’t have to reach a few inches from my body. I, more than likely, walked to a different room in the house, sat at a desk, logged on to the internet, and had to search for notifications. The pings didn’t come to me. I came to them. Physical distance and time contributed to my experience on the internet. This is what I’m trying to add back into my life. And, I’m curious if this might be the key to help us regain a bit of sanity in a world overwhelmed 24/7/365.

Ah, let’s talk about how long it took to get on the internet. Watching a few AOL clips online brought back some memories. Yes, there was the logging on part, but even turning on your computer took ages! Basically, to get online, you’d go to the living room, turn on the machine, get a snack, and then come back to log on to the internet. Oh, and if you were on the internet, you couldn’t use your home phone. So, if anyone needed to make a phone call, you were booted off. The restraints made every interaction feel precious, which I think is part of why we who remember feel so nostalgic for it today.

How could we mirror that today? Even though my phone is easily accessible, there are some self-restricted barriers I’ve added into my routine that have helped.

Finish important tasks before you reach for your phone in the morning. For me, that means I don’t get my phone until I have journaled, gotten dressed, and walked with my partner in the morning. I start the day with my own thoughts, and don’t get pulled by anything else except the house and the people I wake up with. After I get home and start breakfast, then I’ll get my phone, not before.

Download an app to manage or block your phone time. I use Minimalist Phone that helps reduce screen time. Friends of mine enjoy using Brick to help manage being online. Integrating self-enforced feedback loops that help you understand and manage your screen time will give you opportunities to think about how you want to manage and use your time.

Download an app that blocks phone access while driving. Lifesaver is a good one for this. I confess that I don’t use this as much as I should. But, when enabled, it blocks all access to your phone apps except maps. Actually, I’m enabling it right now. Okay, fixed.

Recently, I heard someone say that our addiction to our phones is not the same as the kinds of addictions people experience with drugs. If you remove a substance from an addicted person, their withdrawal symptoms and their craving can last for months, even years, but take someone’s phone away, and they won’t crave their phone in the same way. They will likely experience Nomophobia - the fear, anxiety, or distress associated with being without one's mobile phone or being unable to use it. We are so used to having our devices with us that we’re afraid to be without them. We are dependent on its presence. And again, the 90s can help us out here.

Recharge in different rooms. At night, put your phone in a different room from where you sleep. For me, that means the phone goes into my office before I go to bed. On my nightstand are books and anything else I want nearby when I settle in at night. It’s amazing how, after I’ve read for a while, put some lotion on my feet, and positioned myself, I have no desire to get up and look something up on my phone.

Access social media on your laptop. Yes, take social media off your phone. Feeling nervous already? I know I was. The FOMO (fear of missing out) hit hard at first. After a while, I didn’t care so much. I found other things to do because I can only feed my Hananezumi a certain number of times.

Still want to post? Use a buffer. And, yeah, I mean, like Buffer, an app that is a go-between for when you want to post on social media but don’t want to physically go to the site. So many of my social media posts never make it past the initial feed scroll because once I see what everyone else is posting, somehow what I came to post was not as good, helpful, witty, useful, or meaningful. Using Buffer, I don’t have to deal with any of those emotions. I think of something, I post to the intended platform, and log off. I’ll return a few days later to see if there were any reactions (there rarely are).

I’m currently reading The Joy Diet by Martha Beck. One practice she offers that has helped me the most is getting quiet. Every day, I grab my coffee, my dog, a journal, and my phone (yes, my phone is helpful here). I set a timer for 20 minutes and sit in silence.

I watch the birds.

I listen to my thoughts.

I write helpful ones down.

I observe unhelpful thoughts.

I listen to the wind in the trees.

Time slows.

20 minutes feels like a long time.

20 minutes feels rejuvenating.

Yes, after a while, I get nervous and check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed the timer. And, literally, within seconds, the timer goes off. It’s taken time for me to relax and trust that the tools beside me will do their job. They do. After that 20 minutes of quiet, I take a few more minutes to jot down the thoughts I observed in the silence. I know myself better and can reflect on what I’m really feeling, without anything else muddying the waters.

This is more than a post about touching grass. This is a post meant to help us reconnect with ourselves. I don’t have good answers for you, let alone for myself. But I don’t think being online more will give us what we need. What we need is our humanity. The 90s were a messy time, and incredibly special. We can get stuck in nostalgia, or we can sift through our memories and pick out ways of living that benefit us.

And, if the dial-up internet connection sound comes back, I wouldn’t be sad about it.

Wide leg jeans forever!

Till next time…

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Written with What are you pretending is okay? playing in the background

Disclaimer: The only bit of AI used in the writing of this article was my use of Grammarly. You don’t want to read what I write without it.