08/31/2026
Saying Goodbye to My Watch. Also, Have You Seen My Phone?
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Apologies if I haven’t gotten back to your call or text in a timely manner.
I decided to take a break from my Apple Watch, and the fallout has been rarely knowing where my phone is located. By the time I track it down, I’m typically so behind on correspondence that I simply place it in a new location that I promptly forget, causing me to lose my phone once again.
It’s probably the only consistent negative I’ve discovered in tossing my Apple Watch into the back of my sock drawer for a quick test on whether or not it helps or hinders my daily life.
For those non-Apple products users: One of the best features of an Apple Watch is the ability to ping one’s phone, from a distance. Ergo, when I arrive on the third floor of our home, sans phone, I can sound an alert that often tells me that my phone is located in the basement, kicking off a quick debate on whether or not I need that phone badly enough to make the trek.
It’s a great feature but, in recent months, I noticed that the damper of being too connected had started outweighing the bliss of always being able to track down my misplaced phone.
2026 has been an amazing year in the travel planning side of my life with business booming. With business booming, so has the amount of time I’ve spent leaping enthusiastically (ish) to answer every beep, ding, boop, or ring coming from my phone or watch.
A few months ago, my husband (rudely) hinted that he felt like I was spending a lot more time answering calls or texts or emails when I should be paying attention to him (or something like that). Of course, I countered that attack by gaslighting him, as women do. Remember that 1980’s PSA that ended with “I learned it from you watching you!”?
Well, let’s just say I offered a dramatic re-enactment.
To be fair, my husband’s company is headquartered in California, so while he typically calls it a day at about 6:00 pm our time, the majority of his colleagues are still at work as we meander into the East Coast dinner hour. The trade-off is that because my husband can enjoy a slow start to the workday, as most of his colleagues are still in bed, so can I.
My work as a travel planner marks my first dabble into the world of sales, and I may be discovering the challenge of establishing boundaries. Answering a text at 9:30pm or taking a phone call during dinner used to be highly unusual, but there has been a noted shift. I mean, I’m in sales, right? Doesn’t that mean my level of importance has been upgraded to ultra? I hardly saw a problem until…
…I was draped across my therapist’s couch fighting the urge to check my watch as it vibrated with incoming text alerts.
My best-therapy-practices have always included assuming someone else is the problem, ignoring advice on the first pass, and shoving my muted phone deep into my purse. I’ve done the latter (tucked my phone away) for nearly any appointment, whether it was lunch with a friend, a haircut, the gym, teeth cleaning, etc.
But then…the lines started to blur.
In fairness, the blurring started when my mom was declining as I felt a need to be connected and ready to answer a call or text from North Carolina at all times. That need to be connected and ready to answer oozed into other areas of my life, partially the sales realm.
When I realized those beeps, dings, boops, or rings were oozing into my coveted time on my therapist’s couch, I started shoving both my phone and my watch into my purse. It was great in theory, but that lack of connection, even for just forty-five minutes kicked my anxiety up a notch and, well, I didn’t love that.
I started to wonder what life would look like without all those beeps, dings, boops, or rings vibrating across the top of my wrist.
My husband had retired his Apple Watch earlier in the year and seemed to be surviving just fine, other than having no idea where his phone was located. Should I do the same? Yes, but just to prove to myself that this was a really dumb idea.
It’s been just over a month since I took off my Apple Watch and tucked it into the back of my sock drawer.
The initial days weren’t easy as I felt even more pulled to pick up my phone as my wrist was no longer vibrating with alerts for action. What’s wild is that, even without my watch vibrating alerts, I still felt them. Even today, six weeks later, I still feel those phantom buzzes on a wrist devoid of electronics. I think that’s very telling to how attached I’d become to the high of knowing a text or email had entered my orbit.
Prior to switching to an analogue watch, I really did try to “turn off all the things” on my Apple Watch, but its settings always drifted back to its default “Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!” It felt like a game of digital detox whack-a-mole.
I don’t miss the beeps, dings, boops, or rings. Or, rather, I’m missing them less and less as I get further away from them.
I did miss tracking my sleep or steps or heart rate, the very things I’d bought that Apple Watch for in the first place but had since forgotten about. I now have an Oura for that work, and the only beep it offers is encouragement to stretch my legs if I’ve been sitting too long.
I do miss the ability to read the date. Sure, my analogue watch has a date function but it’s too small for my 55-year-old eyes to see.
And, yes, I do miss the ability to find my phone with the push of a button.
The answer to that first-world problem has been designating just a few spots on which to set my phone so that I know where I might find it, when left behind. Well, it sounded good in theory, anyway.
Currently? I have no idea where my phone is located.
All good, though, as my husband doesn't know where his phone is, either.
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ŌURA
