What I Gained when I Stopped Putting My Phone to Bed
Who's really in control of your time, attention, affection? I tried parenting my phone--and not. This was my experience from both sides.
Recently, I was reflecting on the amazing habits I had managed to cultivate over the first several months after moving into our new home. As I was about to pat myself on the back for all the positive moves in the right direction, I realized most of them were not still active.
I began to notice something was off when it was 1 a.m. and I was Instagram-stalking celebrities I’d barely thought of before, googling every question that popped into my head. I couldn’t keep up with my church’s Bible reading plan—online rabbit trails made hours feel like minutes. At the end of the day, I’d look up from my screen and realize I’d neglected the day.
Learning to Parent My Phone
I first heard the phrases “parent your phone” and “put your phone to bed” about five years ago, while learning about the ancient Jewish practice of Sabbath and how to practice it in a modern age.
Over the years, my husband and I have experimented with different ways to be less dependent on our phones. We tried flip phones, minimalist apps, and even looked into the Light Phone and Wisephone. Eventually, I landed on two small but significant changes:
First, I installed an app that minimized my phone’s interface, reduced stimulation, and promoted intentional use.
Second, I decided what apps I wouldn’t download—no social media, no games, nothing that stole my time.
Once, while explaining our approach to someone, they just stared at us and said, “Why not just stay off it?” But they hadn’t grown up with a phone in their hand since their teen years. It’s a different kind of dependence—and a different kind of self-control we’re working to rebuild.
And only now are we beginning to understand the long-term effects. I recently heard someone on a podcast suggest that smartphones might eventually carry warning labels, like cigarettes. Wow, what a thought.
But this isn’t a persuasive essay against smartphones—not exactly.
A House Rule That Helped Me Too
When we moved into our new house in December, around the same time we gave our 13-year-old his first phone (a Gabb phone with limited capabilities), I started putting my phone to bed at night. We did this because it would be a rule for Isaiah—he wasn’t allowed to keep it in his room; it stayed at the dining room charging station. I didn’t want to create a double standard. It was the motivation I needed to do what I’d been wanting to do: put my phone to bed, rather than sleep with it beside my head after giving it the last of my attention at night.
That sounds dramatic, but if you’re anywhere close to my generation and honest, your phone is also probably the first thing you wake up to and the last thing you gaze into every night. How intimate, right?
For several months, I put it to bed every night. And it was great.
I got hours of sleep and fell asleep easily. I truly savored time with my kids—I stopped counting down the minutes until bedtime was over. I rediscovered a love of reading fiction. I was connected to real-life friends and had more consistent time with God. My mornings started with surrender to God. Bible reading became a priority. My husband and I had real evening conversations. I ended my days with a reflective Examen. I made eye contact with my family. I had the freedom of not always knowing where my phone was. I felt relief from the compulsion to post everything online.
But I didn’t realize how sweet life had become until routines got out of whack and I found excuses not to stick with it. I fell right back into the habit of bringing it to bed with me.
What I Gained When I Let My Phone Lead
So instead of telling you what I lost when I stopped parenting my phone, let me tell you what I gained when I let myself be addicted to it. I gained:
Internet rabbit trails of conspiracy theories and celebrity gossip.
Insomnia.
A high score in Mahjong.
A backlog of Marco Polos with real-life friendships.
Inconsistent time with God.
Rushed, begrudging mornings.
A growing list of unchecked boxes in my Bible plan.
Disconnected evenings with my husband.
Agitated kids competing for attention.
A phone that never left my hand.
The compulsion to scroll for no reason.
Kids developing their own screen addictions.
It felt like I had no time for anything—and was somehow still doing nothing that really mattered.
So What Now?
I’m not suggesting we all dump our phones. I obviously haven’t gone that route.
But I am challenging us to ask: Who’s in control—me or my phone?
Am I in charge of my time, or do I keep giving it away to an addictive swipe-tap-colorful dopamine hit?
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it all comes down to one question I’ve been using as my filter lately—
What would happen if, instead of saying “I don’t have time for ___,” I said, “I don’t make time for ___”?
I know what would happen if I made that change. Because I am.
And the answer is:
I’d parent my phone.
I’d put it to bed.
I’d look my family in the eyes.
I’d savor their joys.
I’d read a good book.
I’d delight in the Lord.
And I’d make the time.
