512 notifications. On Monday alone.
Imagine someone poking you 512 times in one day—no wonder I find myself perpetually glued to my phone, constantly distracted by each new buzz.
Last week, after a rather dramatic breakup with TikTok (we’re still on good terms, no hard feelings), I decided it was time to confront my Screen Time stats. I wasn’t exactly bracing for great news. Sure, I knew I was sinking hours into mindless scrolling, but what really made me gasp was the relentless flood of notifications. It felt like drowning in a sea nonstop notifications.
Now, I pride myself on being a responsible phone user. I’m that person who puts their phone on Do Not Disturb during work and refuses to let it buzz in the cinema—like any civilized human being, right? Yet, somehow, I’m still picking up my phone every few minutes, swiping up to check what I might be “missing.” Spoiler: it’s always FOMO. Those apps know just what to dangle in front of me, offering a tempting glimpse to pull me back in.
And can we talk about those red notification bubbles for a second? I hate them. There’s this itch in my brain that won’t let me rest until I’ve cleared those cursed red circles. It’s the digital equivalent of having a messy room—I simply cannot relax until everything is tidy. These trivial distractions slowly chip away at my time, dragging me into their dopamine-fueled traps.
I’ve drawn the line by refusing to install any work-related apps on my phone—thankfully. I’m already a self-admitted workaholic, and the last thing I need is Outlook or Teams lighting up my screen, doubling or even tripling my notifications. I know myself too well. I’d be unable to resist answering pings the second they appear, breaking my focus every five minutes.
Even on my desktop, I’ve had to mute notifications while I work. Otherwise, it’s like I’m stuck in an endless loop of answering emails, responding to coworkers, and chasing after every buzz, leaving my actual tasks perpetually half-finished.
Some days, I’m just…exhausted. Each notification is another piece of my attention, pulled in every direction, with constant reminders to step away from myself. It’s a strange kind of fatigue—the kind where you’re never alone with your own thoughts.
Maybe it’s time to reclaim that space. After all, if I don’t set boundaries with my phone, who will?
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