Personal Essay · Wellness

Personal Essay · Wellness · 8 min read

Phone down. Stylus up.

An honest account of one bedtime habit replacing another.

A row of slim glass crystal scratching pens in a matte black presentation box

The loop.

You know the loop. Phone face-down. Lights off. Eyes closed. And then — your hand reaches for the phone anyway.

It is 11:47pm. Here you are. Again.

The pattern.

For a year I did the same thing every night. I'd get into bed at 10:30, the kind of tired only a back-to-back-meeting day produces. I'd put the phone on the other nightstand on purpose. I'd tell myself: tonight, I read the book.

By 10:45 I was on Instagram. By 11:10, TikTok. By 11:45, a podcast about why I can't focus playing through one earbud while I scrolled my old high-school friends' wedding photos on Facebook.

And then I'd do it again.

A dimly-lit bedroom at 11:47pm with rumpled white linen, a hand on the pillow, a phone glowing faintly, a warm bedside lamp
11:47pm. The loop.

The envelope.

A friend mailed me an envelope in March. She was a designer, sober four years, the kind of person who actually puts her phone in a drawer.

Inside the envelope: a flat black 8×10 card and a slim glass pen. On the back of a Post-it she'd written: Try this for a week. Twenty minutes before bed. That's it.

I thought it was a craft project. It was, technically. It was also the first thing in a year that got me to put the phone down without arguing with myself about it.

Hands opening a small black paper envelope on a warm wooden tabletop with a black scratch-art card and slim glass pen inside, yellow Post-it beside
A card. A glass pen. A Post-it. That was the whole package.

The ritual.

The card is matte black, top to bottom. You scratch the coating with the glass pen. Underneath, color comes up — not paint-by-numbers color, but the iridescent kind, like the inside of a CD. There are faint grey guide lines. You don't have to follow them. You can't really mess it up.

There is a very specific sound. A soft zzip, like the world's quietest zipper.

Macro of a glass crystal pen drawing an iridescent rainbow line through a matte black scratch-art canvas in warm bedside lamp glow
The instruction manual: scratch the black. Pretty things come out from under it.

It is the opposite of boring. It is, I had to look this up later, what psychologists call flow state. Your hands have just enough to do that your mind shuts up.

Same reason adults knit. Same reason your grandmother did jigsaw puzzles. Same reason people chop vegetables when they're upset. It works because it's analog, repetitive, and you can see your progress.

The research, briefly.

This is not new.

A 2013 paper in the British Journal of Occupational Therapy surveyed 3,545 adults who knit regularly.1 The more often they knit, the calmer they reported feeling. The researchers called it "the rhythmic, repetitive nature of the activity, in combination with a visible, gradually unfolding outcome."

Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, the psychologist who named flow state, spent thirty years describing why the brain feels best when the hands are doing something gently challenging.2

A 2021 paper in Journalism Studies defined doomscrolling formally and described it, generously, as a coping mechanism that "fails to deliver the regulation it promises."3

None of which is news. We've known about flow and knitting and the doomscroll for decades. The trick was just — having something on the bedside table that wasn't the phone.

  1. Riley J. et al. (2013). British Journal of Occupational Therapy.
  2. Csíkszentmihályi M. (1990). Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. Harper & Row.
  3. Ytre-Arne B. & Moe H. (2021). Journalism Studies.
A half-completed black scratch-art canvas of a hummingbird on a light oak desk with a glass pen, ceramic mug, and small potted plant

If you want to try it

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Three places to start

Honest questions.

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