Can I have your attention, please?

Everyone is competing for your attention. Who has yours?

I am grateful in 2020 that my son dominated my attention. He brings a profound joy to every day with his playfulness and smiles. But I feel all these other…forces competing for my attention.

Facebook. Google. Microsoft. Amazon. Apple. AT&T. Sony. Netflix. Disney. Joe Rogan.

If it has my attention, chances are it’s on a screen.

Feeling the impact of these powerful media forces, I started to ask myself, “Who has my attention?” And “How does that impact the way I see the world?”

In some ways, the first question is easy to answer. I do everything I can to focus on my wife and son after work. But it’s not always easy. There’s dinner to make and cleaning to do. Then it’s the mad scramble for bed. By the time he’s asleep and we’ve finished the chores, it’s a struggle just to stay awake on the couch.

Usually my wife and I pick up our phones. 10, 15, 30 minutes scroll by in silence. Maybe we share a laugh over a video, but, really, we might as well have been in different rooms, alone with our screens.

It’s become a habit that has infiltrated my entire life. Wake up. Check my phone. Sit on the toilet. Check my phone. Stop at a red light. Check my phone. Finish a task at work. Check my phone. Eat lunch alone. Read posts on my phone. Drive home from work. Listen to podcasts on my phone. Make dinner. Watch a video on my phone. Back in bed. Better check my phone one last time.

As I have become aware of this habit, I’ve become so disappointed in myself. Am I the zombie millennial as seen on TV?

I know I’m not alone. When I walk my dog at night in our quiet Bozeman neighborhood, I look at the houses we pass. The ones lit almost always, in every single window, have big screens shining for all to see. Often I see a person, sitting alone, watching TV while simultaneously scrolling away on their phone or sitting with a laptop.

It makes me sad because I know how it feels. When I spend more time with my phone then with the people I love, I am sad. Withdrawn from the word and keeping everyone at post length. Cause or effect? It’s hard to tell. Sure, a global pandemic is a great excuse. And we all know, a screen can keep you company. But it can’t make you happy.

Sometimes it’s Facebook and Netflix. Sometimes it’s Twitter and YouTube. It doesn’t matter which. Do I even remember the majority of what I see anyways?

What matters is that, somewhere between my first iPhone 4 in 2013 and now, I have lost control of my attention. Who has my attention seems less relevant than the fact that the most important things in my life don’t. My health. My faith. My son. My wife — or noticing the laundry she folded or the bathroom she cleaned. Even my happiness.

I am getting better. Since becoming aware of my screen addiction, I’ve started putting my phone on silent and out of sight. My wife bought an old-fashioned alarm clock for our bedroom. But I still lose control. Then feel guilty. I still have those conflicting feelings whenever I realize that I need my phone. How can something that can connect me to anyone and everything in the world take me farther away from the ones I love most?

As I move forward into 2021, I am focusing on making my attention more intentional. It’s up to me to take control. To take responsibility for my actions. To create the life I want to live, focused on family, friends, faith, and community.

Our attention is limited and precious. I’ve got so many things I want to do. And binge watching another show is not one of them. I’ve got a long way to go because I lack discipline, and there are so many forces out there competing for my attention.

These technology and media companies want us to be dependent. To be addicted. It’s what their shareholders demand. Enticing our eyes to be glued to the screen as life passes by. All in the name of selling us something. Until we become the something to be sold.

It’s time for all of us to take back control of our attention. If you don’t, you are letting someone else define your reality. After all, you are what you see.