My phone died in the airport security line as we left town for Seattle last week. The screen went glitchy, then turned completely black. By some miracle, I had a paper boarding pass, which may become my new practice.

John and I had separated so he could flitter through security using TSA PreCheck. We’d agreed to “meet up on the other side”—where the haves and have nots reconvene—but I got rerouted to international security, which took me to a different, Johnless place.

I headed to the gate, thinking John would eventually do the same. But after 30 minutes, I decided he wasn’t coming. I *always* travel with my laptop, but I left it at home, meaning I had no alternate means of communication.

Everyone around me was happily on their phones, and I debated who to ask for help—and how to sound as non-scammy as possible. I went to the airline counter instead.

“Do you need a charger? Or an outlet?” the gate agent asked.

“No. My phone is dead dead. Deceased.”

She helped me call John, who was relieved. He’d imagined all types of scenarios, including one where I’d had a mental break and was going to yell, “Who is this man? My name is Stacy!” when we reunited.

ANYWAY.

These factors combined to create an Unplanned Technology Break—where I was without my Handheld Distraction Device for five whole days.

The result? My anxiety was practically nonexistent. No messages to answer. No social media. No ability to search every curiosity that entered my brain.

I didn’t question my ability to focus—a thought that crosses my mind several times per day.

With nothing to compulsively check, I could finally connect to the present moment. My cousin’s two dogs and two cats. The glimpses of mountains on the horizon. The way the light snuck in between the trees.

At times I regretted that I didn’t have a camera. However, it was a much-appreciated reminder that the present moment will always be more valuable than the photographic evidence that I was there.

I’m grateful that the universe forced me to reconsider my relationship with my phone. I’m settling into some new habits at home, and I’m feeling better because of it.

You, too, can take your power back from that tiny device! Good things will come from it.

P.S. If time is of the essence, don’t buy from Reebelo. While on the trip, I bought a refurbished phone on Reebelo. I paid for expedited one-day shipping, which assured delivery in Seattle by October 9. Did it come? No. It came October 12, after we’d left for the airport to return home. Sadly, Reebelo didn’t take any accountability, saying “the actual delivery timeline depends on the courier once the package is in transit.” But the shipping label plainly showed it was to be delivered October 12, meaning it was never coming on the paid-for date. Reebelo’s customer service has been lackluster at best. One star. Ultimately I’m glad Reebelo failed to deliver (womp!), but still. Buyer beware.