How are you with feeling scared?
It's the World Cup.
I have a morning routine. No, not that kind. No 5am cold shower or 10k run.
I drop the boys off at school.
Then I go for coffee and write.
Or at least that's the idea.
I like writing. It's important to how I think and work. It also feels good. Finishing something difficult. Wrestling an idea onto the page. Making sense of a problem.
But 'feels good' is the important bit.
Most of us like to imagine we're rational creatures, making sensible decisions about how we invest our time, money and attention.
The reality less so.
We do a surprising amount simply because it feels good.
Or perhaps more accurately, because it helps us avoid feeling bad.
Take this morning.
I should be writing.
Instead I'm checking football news.
Transfer rumours.
World Cup updates.
Then WhatsApp.
Email.
The phone, a little pocket rocket of instant reward. A smorgasbord of novelty and distraction.
Compared to writing, it's easy, immediate and asks almost nothing of me.
The usual advice is practical.
Hide the apps.
Grey the screen.
Leave the phone at home.
All useful.
But none really answer the question:
Why am I reaching for the phone in the first place?
Because beneath most compulsive behaviours sits a feeling we'd rather not feel.
Try it.
Think of a moment when you'd normally reach for your phone.
Feel yourself sitting there. The seat below your bum. Your feet on the floor. Steady. Quiet. Calm.
Now imagine the phone is gone. Taken away. Unavailable.
You can't pick it up.
You can't check.
You can't scroll.
What feeling remains?
Sit with that, for a mo: what feeling remains...?
For me, it's often a helplessness.
A feeling of not being in control.
Of not knowing.
Of not being able to make things - or people - behave.
It's subtle at first.
A tightening in the chest.
A clenching in the throat.
A restlessness.
An urge to do something.
Anything.
The phone offers relief, release, from this unpleasantness.
Not because I need the football news (although I do, obvs).
Not because I need the email.
Not because I need to know which football agent is talking to which journalist (AKA transfer 'news').
The phone is simply a super convenient escape hatch.
If I stay with the helplessness a little longer, something else appears.
Sadness.
A kind of emptiness.
An empty chest. A tight throat.
The eyes moisten.
The thing I was trying not to feel finally gets a chance to speak.
And then something interesting happens.
The feeling moves.
Not immediately.
Not dramatically.
But it moves.
Like the tide.
It changes shape.
It loses some of its grip.
Which is perhaps the real point.
Most of us fight the compulsive behaviour - or surrender to it.
The scrolling.
The snacking.
The checking.
The refreshing.
The overworking.
The endless need to know.
And sometimes that's useful.
But often the behaviour isn't the problem.
It's the solution.
A clever, improvised solution to a feeling we're trying to avoid.
The football news isn't the problem.
The phone isn't the problem.
The feeling is the problem.
Or perhaps not even the problem.
Just the thing asking for our attention.
Maybe the route to less compulsive behaviour isn't greater discipline.
Maybe it's becoming a little more willing to sit with the feelings we've spent years learning to avoid.
The helplessness.
The loneliness.
The sadness.
The uncertainty.
The fear.
Because when we can sit with those, even briefly, the phone loses some of its magic.
And that's a much deeper kind of rewiring.
If you'd like help exploring this, drop me an email.
I'm happy to share a simple guided recording that can help you practise the same experiment.
For now, though, back to that World Cup news.
Did you know the goalkeeper of Cape Verde gained an extra 1.5m social media followers overnight? I do now. As do you.
Over and out.
Do you know someone prone to checking their phone (and / or other compulsive behaviours)? If so, feel free to share this with them. They'll see it quick enough 😁.