Traveling with anxiety has shaped my choices, leading me to seek environments that promote relaxation, whether through nature, creative expression, or quiet reflection.
I am a professor of public health who studies health behaviors and the gap between intentions and outcomes. I became interested in this self-care paradox recently, after I suffered from a concussion. I was prescribed two months of strictly screen-free cognitive rest-no television, email, Zooming, social media, streaming, or texting. The benefits were almost immediate, and they surprised me. I slept better, had a longer attention span, and had a newfound sense of mental quiet.
Six months ago, I found myself sitting in a coffee shop, supposedly working on an article, but instead I was switching between seven different apps, responding to notifications, and feeling my chest tighten with each ping. My heart was racing, my breathing was shallow, and I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone more than five minutes without checking my phone. That's when it hit me: the device that was supposed to make my life easier had become my biggest source of stress.
In the middle of December 2025, I decided to switch my digital smartwatch for a classic analog watch, as part of my effort to make my life just a bit less digital in 2026. The added bonus is that I really liked the look of a classic watch. I went to my local jewellery store and picked out a mid-range watch. I didn't want to get an expensive one just in case my resolution didn't work out.
Last week, I tried to watch a movie without doing anything else. Just watching. No phone, no laptop, no second screen. I made it exactly 12 minutes before my hand started twitching toward my pocket like some kind of digital zombie. And that's when it hit me. This isn't about being lazy or unmotivated. This constant restlessness, this inability to truly relax, it's something else entirely.