Unplugging, a little at a time

Back in 2019, while sitting on the beach with my four-year-old daughter, I began to notice a gray netting had settled between me and the world. I didn’t realize it then, but that netting had prevented me from experiencing all the delight and pleasure in my life. It had narrowed down my desires to activities and foods that left me feeling lonely and empty afterward.

After years of researching and experimenting, I finally had the tools to cut through that netting. I needed to build sanctuaries in my life where fulfilling hobbies took center stage, and all the dopamine magnets moved aside to their rightful place in the wings of my life.

Once our family created a few of these protective zones, something unexpected happened. We yearned for more of them. Because we could feel how these slices of our day shined brighter and felt more joyful than our times with screens and pood [the writer’s daughter’s name for processed food].

One morning Rosy even launched a new sanctuary for all of us, without realizing it. It was about 9 a.m. on a Saturday, and I had just finished cooking oatmeal and scrambling eggs. Rosy still hadn’t emerged from her room. So I called to her: “Rosy, breakfast is almost ready.” But she didn’t answer. Typically, she didn’t sleep so late. Is she OK? I wondered.

Ten more minutes passed by, and I finally went into her room to check on her. There, sitting in her bed, still wearing her pajamas, Rosy had her head dropped deep into a new book from the library. She told me that she had woken up an hour earlier and had immediately grabbed the book. She couldn’t pull herself away from it to get dressed. “I just want to finish this chapter, Mama,” she said.

At that moment, I realized Rosy was creating, in her own way, a book-reading sanctuary for our family. She was telling me that Saturdays (and eventually Sundays) should be reserved for reading books. Because who needs Netflix or an iPad when you have a stack of fresh library books on your bedside table, pulling you to them all day?

And when she grew tired of reading, she had a bicycle on the front porch waiting for her to ride around town with her best friend all day. Who needs a screen when you have a life full of real adventure, escape, and pleasure?

After that morning, I watched with awe as Rosy’s daily routine transformed in remarkable ways. Slowly, she embraced one high-value habit after another. She started practicing piano voluntarily in the afternoons, playing outside with gusto at all times of the day, and sewing whenever she felt a hint of boredom. She even began to attend our library’s Yarn Arts club, at which a whole bunch of grandmas gleefully taught her how to crochet winter hats and scarves (something I could never do).

My habits followed Rosy’s habits. I stopped carrying my phone in the car, and we created the device area. With those two sanctuaries in place, all that phone noise buzzing in my head grew quieter. After a few months, the chatter began to fade away entirely. Initially, it left for only a few hours at a time. But soon it vanished for entire days. Then entire weekends. Some Saturdays I wouldn’t even think about my phone until early evening. Some Sundays I didn’t check my phone at all.

One Saturday morning, I noticed my phone needed charging, and instead of plugging it in, I just let it sit there dead for the rest of the weekend.

And you know what? That weekend – and every weekend away from the internet – felt marvelous. During these hard breaks from my phone and computer, I stopped worrying about work so much. I stopped feeling anxious about the news. And I completely quit caring about what strangers on social media said about me. All that banter and arguing seemed inconsequential and even childish compared to the life in front of me, which was turning into a darn good one.

Rosy and I filled our leisure time with hobbies that gave us real rewards, daily. We built our own garden and packed it with kale, bok choy and green peas. We started raising a flock of chickens and harvesting their chocolate-brown eggs each morning (the best eggs that I’ve ever eaten). We learned to identify the birds in our neighborhood and the constellations in our night sky. We hung out with neighbors, wrote thank-you notes, played Wiffle ball, cooked, baked, and sat together on the front porch chatting.

Once the phone noise vanished, I could actually enjoy these activities. I could feel them fill me up with what I needed as a human being. I could savor the pleasures that my senses provide me. The smell of wet dirt on my hands as I planted lettuce seedlings. The sheer wonder of a glistening Venus hanging next to a crescent moon. The softness of Rosy’s hand on my arm as we snuggled on the couch. And the deep belly laughs that my neighbor Norma and I shared while poking fun at our husbands. One time in the car, Rosy, Matt and I laughed so hard that I started crying, which I hadn’t done in at least ten years.

Slowly over time, as a family, we permanently changed our attitudes, our daily routines, and our awareness of what brings meaning to our lives. We no longer had that much time for screen activities, and we also didn’t desire them that much either. Because life was way more fun, interesting, and easy without them.

Excerpted from Dopamine Kids: A Science-Based Plan to Rewire Your Child’s Brain and Take Back Your Family in the Age of Screens and Ultraprocessed Foods by Michaeleen Doucleff (2026), by permission of Avid Reader Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.