Why I’m Embracing Stillness In The In-Between Moments

There doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day. Cliché but true. I know I’m not alone in my desperation to fit more tasks, interests, hobbies, education, and time with people I love into my schedule. The puzzle of daily life feels full, but I can’t help looking longingly at the unused pieces sitting off to the side. If someone were to present me with an extra five hours each day, there is no shortage of activities I’d jump to fill it with. Surely I wouldn’t fritter away that kind of valuable time scrolling on my phone. This is precisely why I was surprised to check my screen time stats and realize that I had been averaging over five hours a day doing just that. 

“I know I’m not alone in my desperation to fit more tasks, interests, hobbies, education, and time with people I love into my schedule.”

I consider myself to be pretty aware of screen habits. The digitizing of everyday life irks me to no end and I’m constantly seeking practices to resist the slippery slope of chronic cellphone usage in our home. Especially with two little kids in my shadow, it’s not too challenging to keep the stereotypical hours-long doom scroll out of my routine. 

So, where do these five hours come from? Dozens of fleeting in-between moments where I instinctively reach for my phone to fill a seemingly unimportant sliver of time. Checking emails at the stoplight, scrolling Instagram while waiting for pasta water to boil, catching up on the group text sitting on the toilet (we’ve all done it) – there are a hundred miniscule ways that I momentarily step out of my life whenever the pace of reality slows to stillness by reaching for my phone. 

“There are a hundred miniscule ways that I momentarily step out of my life whenever the pace of reality slows to stillness by reaching for my phone.”

I grew curious about these cracks in my day. Have I been missing anything by stuffing them with productivity, information, and digital connection? Like many, I’ve taken purposeful breaks from social media in the past. Going a step further, I enjoyed an illuminating pause from taking photos last fall, but even then, it was easy to find an excuse to “need” to check or do something on my phone during any mundane moment. 

Going without my phone altogether feels too impractical in this stage of life, so I’ve been experimenting with just refraining from filling the moments of stillness whenever they pop up. I freely allow myself to use my phone during purposeful chunks of time; I’m simply seeking increased awareness around both the why and when of it all. 

The reasons why I reach for my phone vary by situation. It’s obvious that checking my inbox in fragments of time (when I don’t actually have the capacity to reply or act on any of the messages) is not, in fact, productive at all. But it’s so hard to resist even the illusion of productivity.

Since our home currently bustles with the continuous activity of two children under the age of five, there is plenty of stimulation to replace habitual phone-checking. In my house it’s rarely pure boredom drawing me to the screen. If anything, checking my phone might actually act as more of an escape from the constant thrum of life unfolding around me. When faced with countertops that seem to sprout crumbs immediately after I’ve cleaned them, it brings a sense of satisfaction to delete an email and know it won’t reappear. However, choosing to keep my attention here, wiping the crumbs for the twelfth time, volunteering to play another round of hide-and-seek, and engaging in the cyclical nature of life where my feet are planted rewards me with that sense of presence that so many of us crave in adulthood. 

“Engaging in the cyclical nature of life where my feet are planted rewards me with that sense of presence that so many of us crave in adulthood.”

Conversely, when I’m outside my realm of endless responsibilities (home), I find myself quickly reaching for my phone to fill spaces of stillness that I have no ability to alchemize into anything tangibly productive. Waiting rooms, traffic behind train tracks, long grocery lines. Ugh. These are the seemingly hollow situations that are particularly challenging for me to accept without digital escape. Like uninvited and unglamorous mini meditations, they ask that I simply be where I am. 

Sometimes, when I’m intentionally focused on the present, I do have surprisingly rich interactions with strangers or meaningful observations of my surroundings. Most times, though, if I’m honest, the in-between moments don’t bring anything memorable. I’m learning to appreciate those ones, too. 

It turns out, the value of the cracks in my day isn’t based on their potential to be filled. Their primary value lies in the empty space itself. Stillness and emptiness do not need fixing. Great interior decor needs negative space to highlight statement pieces. Catchy songs need pauses before building to crescendo. Our lives beg for in-between moments to keep us functioning as humans. 

“Stillness and emptiness do not need fixing.”

It’s in these spaces that the experiences before and after them are further defined instead of blurring into one hurricane of activity. It’s in these spaces that I give my mind a chance to thoughtfully process information in an era of absolute overload. It’s in these spaces that I drop into my body and pay attention to her cues. 

Unlike a firm social media fast or screen detox, I didn’t have a hard boundary stopping me from accessing my phone and all the apps throughout the day, so it required extra introspection and honesty to evaluate my choices in real time. I quickly realized that if I only ask myself why I was reaching for my phone, I can nearly always justify it. The key to changing my habits was adding a follow-up question of, “…but do I need to do this right now?” The answer to that second question is very often no. Things can wait. And when I make them wait, I reclaim the role I want in which my phone is a tool that I use when needed instead of my attention being a tool that apps can continually access.

“Things can wait. And when I make them wait, I reclaim the role I want.”

As far as the numbers go, my screen time did nearly cut in half as soon as I made this effort. But more important than the data provided by my phone is the data provided by my body. Without changing a single thing in my responsibilities or schedule, the pace of my life feels like it’s shifted slightly closer to what I remember as a child: a pace that matches my feet and hands. 

Accessing the in-between moments without distraction might just be where we can best access ourselves at any stage of life.

Ellie Hughes is a Contributing Editor at The Good Trade. She spent several years as a sustainable fashion blogger and leading the marketing for brands aiming to operate with ethics and the environment as their priority. She is now a freelance writer and marketing consultant living in Portland with her husband, two young daughters, and corgi.