I Hate My Phone
Reevaluating my only toxic relationship
A few weeks ago, I had to take my phone to the Google Store for a battery swap. My phone is nearly three years old, and the battery had begun running dry midway through my school days.
A battery replacement set me back $70, which is roughly one-tenth of the cost of a new phone. I remember how in high school, when iPhones and Androids were new, phone upgrades were ubiquitous. I had classmates whose families upgraded their phones each year, and the new models always felt like a massive upgrade from the one before.
The same day as my appointment at the Google Store, my girlfriend popped into the Apple Store a few blocks over. She had owned her iPhone for more than five years. It had begun experiencing hardware problems that could no longer be attributed to the natural slowing of technology as software advances, and she had little choice but to replace her phone.
It struck me how unexcited we both were for our errands. My girlfriend did not feel as though she was unboxing a shiny new toy or gaining access to a game-changing technological breakthrough. She was resigned to the fact that she needed a new phone.
And once I was quoted the cost of a battery replacement, the thought of buying myself a new phone instead vanished. I realized I was not even sure which model the flagship Android phones like Samsung Galaxy and Google Pixel were on at this point. If it was up to me, I would still be using the Pixel 5 that I was forced to file a warranty claim for when its motherboard died.
Our afternoon spent at phone stores reminded me of another expensive, unwanted, and necessary type of errand: trips to the mechanic. After housing, transportation is the second-biggest category of household expense for most Americans. On top of insurance payments and fuel, cars require regular and costly maintenance. Oil changes, tire rotations, state inspections, and the dreaded check-engine light can each set you back hundreds of dollars unless you are lucky enough to live in one of the rare U.S. cities where public transit is a viable way to navigate.
To be sure, there are automotive enthusiasts who relish their vehicle and see maintenance as a hobby rather than a chore. But to the rest of us, a trip to the mechanic is an extortionate necessity at best and a financial catastrophe at worst. Phone repairs and replacements now occupy the same niche.
Phone maintenance is an order of magnitude cheaper than vehicle maintenance. But problems with your phone can feel just as disruptive to your life as problems with your car because, unlike your car, your phone was designed to be addictive.
When I evaluated my personal goals at the start of 2026, being on my phone less was one of the first things that came to mind. Despite removing the most addicting social media apps from my device to minimize distractions during the academic year, I still find myself sitting down with my phone for what I intended to be a five-minute notification-clearing session and looking up 45 minutes later with a cramp in my shoulder from scrolling too long.
As frustration with my lack of self-control turned to desperation, I considered increasingly dramatic measures. I took advantage of Android’s intense Digital Wellness settings to automatically deactivate all notifications and block most apps until well-after I wake up each day. I experimented with permanently switching my phone’s display to grayscale, which has been proven to reduce screen time. I researched dumb phones.
I also wondered if I should start leaving my phone behind when I do things. It was only within the last 15 years that we became accustomed to being constantly reachable, and it is not as though I have a job and I need to be available to protect my livelihood. And I live with my girlfriend, the only person to whom I want to be accessible 24/7 in case of emergency considering my family lives across the country and therefore too far away for a delay in my availability to make a difference.
But the trip to the Google Store instilled in me another depressing lesson: I literally need my phone.
After dropping my phone with the technician, I was told to return three hours later to retrieve the device. Once we were done at the Apple Store, my girlfriend and I sat at a cafe to catch up on work and readings. My law school account recognized that I was logging in from a new IP address and prompted me to respond to a two-factor authentication request before I could access my class dashboard. The fingerprint reader on my MacBook glitched, and the system denied my request. I was then unable to login without my phone.
The bus pass my university provides to graduate students is digital-only, meaning I can only tap on and off if I have my phone. Two-factor authentication is now mandatory for most digital logins, meaning I need my phone to access everything from my utility bill to my retirement account. I always set an alarm on my phone to complement the alarm clock on my nightstand, which has saved me from oversleeping multiple times.
And then there are the not-technically-obligatory necessities afforded to me only through phone use. Living so far from my family, I rely on our daily group chat messages to stay in touch. The same goes for most of my friends. I could in theory buy paper maps or a dashboard GPS, but mapping apps allow me to check traffic, detours, and even speed traps ahead of a new drive. I hope to never have to print a boarding pass ever again.
I knew a guy in undergrad who had an extreme sensitivity to blue light. To mitigate his exposure as much as possible, he switched from an iPhone to a flip phone. This helped reduce his migraines, but it also meant that he was untethered from the social realities of college. Friends would tease him for being unable to Venmo or call for rides on Ubers. Like mapping and group chats, neither of these platforms are strict requirements to survive as a college student. But being cut off from digital payments and access to on-demand rides added significant friction to his daily life.
Since tap-to-pay became ubiquitous, many people in my life have stopped carrying wallets. They no longer need physical cards to pay for things. Most of these people then add a small cardholder to their phone for their driver’s licenses or student identifications. And with 20 states plus Puerto Rico now offering digital IDs while the Transportation Security Administration experiments with Mobile Passport Control, we could soon approach the point where a phone performs all the role of a wallet.
At the start of the year, all the food options on my campus went cash-free. They blame the “national coin shortage” allegedly caused by the U.S. Mint ceasing to print the penny. Many retailers in my area have similar signs. Taking away the ability to pay with cash is another nudge in the all-phone approach to life, as tap-to-pay is accepted at every one of these businesses while bills and coins are not.
No matter how much I want to untether myself, daily phone use is non-negotiable. I need my phone to ride the bus, access my school emails and assignments, and stay in touch with my family.
Phone ownership is also expensive. New features are few and far between, making upgrades or repairs tedious budgeting exercises rather than exciting technological leaps. I never dreamed of car ownership, but now I am forced to have two — the one parked on the street, and the one weighing heavily in my pocket.
Things I Recommend This Week
The Tragedy of Droids in Star Wars | Pop Culture Collective (YouTube)
Your beloved regional fast food chain is going national. Sorry! | Sherwood News
Whose League Is It Anyway? | Defector
The homeowner mutiny leaving Florida cities defenseless against hurricanes | Grist
The Imperial Supreme Court | Harvard Law Review
Is your relationship with your phone healthy? Am I the only one feeling trapped in a toxic relationship? Let me know in a comment.
Thank you as always for reading. Have a great weekend!