This hidden addiction keeps us glued to smartphones. Here’s how to fix it

I’ve been thinking deeply about the forces that keep us glued to our phones. Why do we pick up the phone and become oblivious to time, watching endless streams of reels or doomscrolling down X feeds. I noticed that the real culprit isn’t just the algorithmic fine-tuning of social media applications. It’s texting.
Yes, that quiet, polite, seemingly harmless act we do everyday on our smartphones. Texting via WhatsApp is clearly the hidden engine of our smartphone fixation. It is the thing that keeps the device within arm’s reach even when no notification pops up.
We often talk about social media addiction as if the platforms themselves are pulling every string, but when I’m honest with myself, the behaviour that most reliably brings my phone to my hand is the arrival of a text on WhatsApp. Deep down, my brain responds to the text the way it would to someone tapping me on the shoulder. It feels like a social cue that signals me to reply. And because ignoring a cue like that creates friction, I find myself checking more often than I ever intended to.
That stress becomes the gateway to all other distractions. I’ll respond to the message, yes, but then I’ll check one more thing, then another, and before long the entire digital carnival has unfurled itself in front of me.
So, here’s how I decided to tackle my own dependency at its root, not by fighting dopamine loops or deleting apps, but by renegotiating my relationship with the device itself. The first rule was to break my “all-day available” habit. This was making me slave to the machine and keeping me on an ‘always ready’ mode to respond to an incoming text. Once I broke this habit by enforcing a time-in and a time-out period, I noticed that my nerves felt cooler. This also made me stop nursing the idea of someone waiting for my response.
Then, I stopped carrying the phone around everywhere I go. For instance, when I go for a walk or jog, I don’t take the phone with me anymore. That gives me rough forty-fifty minutes of no-device time. This phone-free time has clearly helped me connect deeply with my inner thoughts.
Thirdly, I started batching my replies. Instead of responding in real-time, I handle messages in bulk, in focused intervals. At first it felt rude. But the truth surprised me; most people didn’t notice, and the ones who did, adapted quickly. Just as we learn a doctor’s availability without resenting it, people learn ours as soon as we consistently signal it.
To make this batching work, I had to change how I replied. Rather than firing off short, back-and-forth exchanges, I started sending messages that answered the next two or three likely questions. Fewer loose ends means fewer reasons for both parties to reopen the conversation an hour later. And for genuine emergencies, I set up narrow avenues for instant reachability: specific contacts who can get through Do Not Disturb, or a simple rule that if something is urgent, they should call, not text.
These three simple rules have helped me be more focused and provide. And most importantly, what surprised me most wasn’t the practical change, but the emotional one. When I reduced the constant trickle of digital chatter, my communications were fully developed.