The first step is admitting you have a problem. The second step is something I have been trying to figure out since completing the first years ago.
Hi, I’m Annabel and I am a smartphone addict. I’m not alone in my woes – rather I’m one of an estimated 25 per cent of people worldwide who fall into this vaguely embarrassing category. The average Brit spends an approximate three hours and 21 minutes on their phone a day, but my Apple Screen Time clocks in at a frankly mortifying five hours. (Sometimes, more often than I’d care to admit, it’s over six…)
It wasn’t always this way. Only a few years ago, my phone was a tool for connection, a means of communicating with friends and family, catching up on the news, and finding inspiration in unexpected places. And sure, some of that is still true – but of the 203 (!) times that I picked up my phone on average each day last week, I doubt even 20 of them were productive. Or even enjoyable. My biggest vice is Instagram, where I waste oodles of time coveting and comparing, coveting and comparing. My steadfast refusal to get TikTok, it turns out, is also pointless given the number of hours I spend on Reels. I come out of each scrolling session much the same way I do after a boozy, indulgent holiday: soporific, guilty, and disgusted.
Enter Brick: the latest trend in the slow-tech space promising to help phone addicts like me (and you?) kick the habit. The device itself is innocuous-looking, a small grey magnetic square. (I keep mine in the fridge door). It works with a compatible app on your phone where you can hand-pick the apps you want to block. You then tap your phone against the block to “brick” it, preventing you from accessing those apps until you choose to “unbrick” it, which you can only do by physically tapping your phone on the device. (There are five “emergency unbricks” that let you remove the blocks remotely). The premise is simple enough – and surprisingly effective.
Over the past six months that I’ve used it, I’ve realised that the key to a successful Brick session is distance: you’ve got to put some serious space between you and the Brick. There are a couple of reasons for this; human laziness is a powerful thing – most of the times I pick up my phone in the day are because it’s within arm’s reach. Another is that the further you have to go to unbrick your phone, the longer you have to question your actions and turn back. There is something deeply embarrassing about it all. It’s a walk of shame that forces you to consider the real reason behind your unbricking: am I going on my phone because I actually want to? Or because I’m seeking the fleeting serotonin rush that feeding my addiction will inevitably give me? Nine times out of 10, it’s the latter.
For the high-achievers out there, the app’s tracking abilities are a bonus. You can see how many hours a day you’ve been bricked and for how many days in a row. Seeing a seven-day streak of 10-plus hours gives me a bloated sense of accomplishment – a little dopamine hit probably not unlike that which I get from my phone in the first place.
And there are different modes to choose from: No Socials, for example, or Work – which blocks everything but email and messages – and you can customise your own settings based on the severity and nature of your addiction. My go-to mode on the weekends, for example, requires an across-the-board ban on all socials, shopping apps, messaging apps, phone calls, emails, and beyond. During the week, I’ll lift the bars on emails, calls and all work-related things.
At £54, Brick wasn’t my first choice to alleviate my addiction. Like everyone else, I had been using Apple’s in-built Screen Time monitor, which was completely useless; breaking the in-app time limit was too easy, a loss of control that is just one click away. My second attempt was something my sister had recommended: putting my phone into greyscale mode, which you can do in the display settings. This worked, almost too well – I had no desire to be on my phone at all, to see those pixels organised in this dull, black-and-white arrangement simply did not scratch the itch. Disabling the colours made scrolling Instagram less interesting. Even my emails were affected. For those looking to go cold turkey, I would highly recommend this.
But what I like about Brick is that it lets me enjoy my phone on my own terms – to actually be present while scrolling and not just doing it out of instinct. Increasingly, my phone has become a comfort blanket I reach out to any time I find myself stuck at work, or bored at home. I don’t even realise I’m doing it half the time. Brick allows me to be more intentional with my screen time. Now when I want to go on my phone, it’s a conscious decision that I have to make.
I can’t lie and say that I’ve kicked my addiction completely. There are some weeks (ahem, the full month of September) where I won’t use Brick at all, giving into my worst impulses for days on end. And that is, in fact, the hardest thing about Brick – making the choice to actually use it, and summoning enough willpower to just tap it in the first place. But once you do, it’s easy. I’ll brick my phone and forget about it; slowly but surely my phone is going back to being a “want” as opposed to a “need”.
The numbers don’t lie (my Screen Time has been as low as 11 minutes), but more satisfying than even the statistics themselves is how I feel after using Brick – or rather how I don’t feel. I don’t feel soporific or guilty or disgusted anymore; I feel in control. And productive. Those five hours I spent on my phone everyday were stopping me from going out and actually getting stuff done and enjoying life – who knew? I’m not saying I stop and smell the roses, but at the very least I’m noticing them.
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