Hi, I'm Robbie. And I'm an Addict.

I’ve heard that step one of the road to recovery is to be honest with yourself, so here it goes:
 
I, like so many others, am addicted to my iPhone.
 
Way too often, I catch myself scrolling through the same Facebook, Twitter and Instagram feeds I’ve already gone through just a few minutes before — scouring posts of friends out to dinner, or at a fun-looking bar, or at a beach with their feet showing at the bottom of the picture.
 
Then I’ll look over, see my wife sitting next to me doing the same thing and think, “oh, we haven’t spoken in 20 minutes. Kinda forgot you were there, actually.”
 
I’m literally scrolling through dozens of other people’s lives, while completely ignoring my own life that is right in front of my big, stupid face.
 
Or even worse, I’ll delve way too deep into some political post comment thread, reading passionate arguments between strangers that never ends with a winner. Honestly, has anyone ever changed someone’s political mind in a comment section? I’ve never seen a thread go like this:
 
Pro Gun Guy: “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people!”
Anti-Gun Guy: “I never thought about it like that, and what you said makes a lot of sense. Thanks for sharing, Frank!"
 
After a social media binge like that, I’ll get overly mad at myself for what I’ve done, and want to throw my phone out the window in anger. It’s probably no different than a drug addict wanting to flush their stash down the toilet, and never of us actually follow through.
 
Our phones are our lifelines, to the point where it’s kind of embarrassing.

Need directions? Reach in your pocket. Feel awkward at a party? Grab your phone and pretend you’re doing something important. I’ll even be wearing a watch, and use that same arm to reach into my pocket and grab my phone to check the time. It’s pure instinct.
 
We’re furiously scanning our newsfeeds looking for something more interesting than what’s right in front of our faces in real life. Thinking about it makes me want to go sell all my belongings and go live in the woods somewhere — but I’ll never really do it.
 
I recently cracked my iPhone screen and was without a phone for about a day. I’m embarrassed at how proud of myself I was to have survived without it… I’d figure out directions to somewhere, and silently give myself a pat on the back. I made plans to meet a friend at a bar. I got there before him, and instead of texting, “Yo, where you at?” I just sat there, ordered a beer, and waited. JUST LIKE THE CAVEMEN USED TO DO.