My screen time is shocking. It really is, or better, was. When they announced the lockdown in the UK, that 23rd of March which seems at the same time yesterday AND ten years ago, my poor brain was really struggling to understand what the heck was going on. I probably picked up my phone 300 times per day, constantly checking and scrolling and then checking the news again — Twitter, Instagram, Reddit (I mostly stay off Facebook because I can’t deal with the conspiracy theories and general lack of common sense, I too have a limit). My screen time was off the charts, ridiculous, unbearable and disheartening. The only good thing that comes from spending 7–8 hours on my phone is the knowledge of TikTok dances.

I had to constantly put my phone in other rooms, set all the possible ‘Do Not Disturb’ modes or else my job would be seriously impaired. But there was nothing I could do to stop myself. I had to check the news, I had to know what was going on in the world, the virus’s numbers, how many countries were hit, how the situation was back at home. I was a junkie, a news junkie. The only consolation was knowing my friends were having the same issues. We would talk a lot about meditation techniques, trying new yoga routines, recipes, setting up quiz nights, planning all the possible video calls to try and digest the situation a little better. I wasn’t afraid to let them know that I cried about 15 times that day, all before lunchtime. I was a mess, you guys. A sweaty, hot mess.

As the days went by, I somehow snapped out of it (and it was much needed if you ask me) and started to realise that my screen time was going down, like down down. I would find myself “accidentally” leaving my phone in other rooms, from early in the morning until late at night. I didn’t want to check the news, but worst of all, I didn’t want to check my notifications. Why was I so overwhelmed by messages?

Throughout the years, my relationship with my phone has changed quite a bit. I was one of those teenagers who could type so fast my thumbs would hurt. Seriously, before all of this touchscreen technology, I was a proud owner of those BlackBerry-like phones, and at the age of 15, I gave myself tendonitis because I was messaging too much… I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. In Italy, before iMessage and WhatsApp, we had mobile phone plans with a set number of free messages we could send every day. I’m pretty sure it was 100 a day or something, and I would proudly finish them all by 6 pm. It was shocking, hence the tendonitis.

My teenage years were all pretty much the same, different device, different messaging app, same story. Typing and I were the best of friends. And then it hit me, A D U L T H O O D. I moved to the UK, I started working full-time in a fast-food restaurant, I was living with my boyfriend and my best friend, so I didn’t really need to stay on my phone that much. My relationship with the digital world began to change, and alas, no more typing-induced thumb pain.

When I enrolled at uni, I didn’t think I would go back to my old messaging self, but then something incredible happened. I met a bunch of gals and the connection was so strong that we needed a space where we could talk, and talk, and talk. We set up group chats and there I was, back to typing, eyes on my phone, pretty much every moment we didn’t spend together. I believe I avoided tendonitis because digital and physical keyboards behave a little differently, or maybe because my teenage years were basically training.

So how is it possible that now, when everyone is apart and digital messaging is the only way we have to stay in touch, I basically avoid my phone like the plague? I think this is for a bunch of reasons. I’m very open with myself in the sense that if I don’t feel like doing something, I just don’t do it. If I feel very down, I don’t want other people to know and feel sad for me. If I feel very happy, I don’t want to rub it in other people’s screens because they might be going through a bad day themselves. Sometimes I’m just really bad at keeping in touch. I am one of those human beings who sees your messages, exits the chats and comes back days later to actually reply. Why do I do this? Your guess is as good as mine.

So, to come back to my screen time. In the past weeks, my screen time is mostly down by a lot. I probably spend around 2 hours a day on my phone, and I am very, very bad at replying. There is something about leaving my phone and not caring about notifications that feels incredibly good. So if you are still here after all this babbling where I basically say that I’m very bad at keeping in touch, and you are indeed waiting for me to answer your messages, please don’t hate me. I will eventually pick up my damn phone and let you know that I’m OK. And the excuse will probably be that I don’t want to give myself tendonitis, again.

Jokes aside, this is an incredibly weird time and everyone must do whatever feels necessary to go on. It can be staying on your phone for 10 hours and learning 10 new TikTok dances, sending your siblings all kinds of horoscope-related memes (Sara, I apologise!) and posting 25 sarcastic tweets, or turning your phone off for the entire weekend, cancelling all social media apps for a while and just losing yourself in a new book or TV show. Whatever you need to do to keep yourself sane.