I toss and turn in bed. The silence of the night is deafening. My sheets are damp with perspiration as my mind races with anxiety like a kindergartener dreading the first day of school. I keep repeating the terrifying phrase, “No Internet access.” How am I going to find out what the weather will be like to plan our family weekend outings, or get directions for a play date, or see what’s playing at the movies for my monthly date night with my husband?

 

And no TV. What the hell am I going to do on Tuesday and Wednesday night without American Idol? Does that mean I actually have to sit and talk to my husband? What will I say? Since our daughter was born five years ago, our lives have gone from fairytale romance to me looking and feeling like something out of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video due to many months of sleep deprivation. And sex, hmmm, I think I vaguely remember what that is. Is that clothing optional? The thought of baring my post-baby body has kept me in baggy pajamas for an extended length of time.

 

And what’s a mom to do without with Facebook for advice on the ever challenging issue of getting my daughter to “try just one pea” without her collapsing on the floor screaming, “Nooooooo,” as if I were asking her to eat the poison apple from Snow White. And what if I miss an e-mail from one of my editors offering me the chance to write the story of a lifetime? Just what if National Geographic happens to think one of my witty ideas is worthy of their publication (I can dream)? Am I willing to risk missing out on the opportunity by not having access to my e-mail?

 

As tough as it may be, this is going to be our life for the next year as we embark on a journey to bring closeness to our family by distancing ourselves from our beloved technology. Can we do it?

 

The Birth of an Idea

Late one night, after Jeff tucked Katelyn into bed, he gingerly tip-toed out of her room looking less like his hunky-husband self and more like Sleepy, one of Snow White’s dwarfs. He plunked himself down on the couch next to me. I felt his warm skin next to mine and leaned my head against his chest. I cherished these brief moments of closeness in a life that always seemed to be on fast forward. We were tired. Katelyn, five years old, had been sick for the past week and had no energy to do anything but watch back-to-back reruns of Hannah Montana. It was easy to give in to her request to “watch just one more show” since I had dishes to do, laundry to wash, dinner to cook and work to catch up on. I felt a twinge of guilt using TV as a babysitter, but felt I had no other choice.

 

As Jeff and I sat in silence, I looked up at him and said, “Now that Katelyn’s feeling better, we need to cut back on TV. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to let her watch so much of it.”

    “Why don’t we try doing a week without TV?” Jeff said.

    I shuddered at the thought of spending an entire afternoon trying to entertain Katelyn, an only child. What would we do for the four hours that needed to be filled between the end of school and dinnertime? Easy for Jeff to suggest giving up TV, he’s not the one having to play hopscotch over and over, reading the same books every day, making animals from Play-doh, or playing “cashier” for the umpteenth time with a pretend cash register and plastic food. It’s not that I don’t adore my daughter. She is the light of my life. But sometimes mommy needs a bit of a break from hours of Romper Room-type activities.

 

And how would Jeff and I spend our evenings without television to mask the truth that we had forgotten what it was like to have a passionate marriage? We had become so accustomed to turning on the TV after Katelyn was fast asleep. Rarely was there time set aside to just talk...or, heaven forbid, indulge in a lip-locked make-out session like frisky high schoolers. Over dinner, we would catch up on the day’s events, but when was the last time we just sat and talked? I soon began to realize how dependent we had become on television...and all of our technology gadgets. We had gotten into the habit of spending our evenings with the TV on while simultaneously checking e-mail or seeing what our Facebook “friends” were up to. I missed my husband. I missed the lively real-life chats we once had. I missed cozying up to a fire with a glass of red wine and just getting to know each other better.

     

     So, I bravely said, “Why don’t we do away with all technology?”

     Jeff looked at me in disbelief and shook his head, “Why?”

     “Why not?” I said. “It would be nice to have some fun family time in the evenings instead of turning on the TV and our computers every night.”

     He wasn’t convinced. “I’m just so tired after working all day. By the time we get Katelyn fed, bathed and in bed, I just want to unwind,” he said.

     

And this is why Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus is such a popular book. Men and women think differently and have different needs. I felt like a lawyer arguing my point. Family vs. Technology. After more discussion (and the threat of not having a home-cooked meal on the table when he gets home from work every night, not having his laundry washed, dried and put away for him, not having the cupboards miraculously always stocked with food, and not having floors so clean you could eat off them), Jeff somehow began to realize that it might be worth exploring life without technology.

 

     “I don’t think it will make that much of a difference to give up our technology, but I’m willing to give it a try and see what happens,” he shrugged.

     

And that was it. We had agreed to embark on a journey to live life without modern technology. That meant unplugging our iPods, laptops, televisions, and digital cameras and disconnecting from e-mail, cell phones and the Internet for personal use. Not an easy tasks for most Americans, especially difficult for us -- a Silicon Valley family dependent on our beloved technology.

 

The Questions

We entered into this experiment not knowing what the outcome would be, but there were some questions that we were hoping to answer by the end:

1. How will doing away with technology affect our time, money, relationships and the environment?

2. Will we gain quality family time by turning the TV off and instead play games, go on walks, or do art projects?

3. How will life without technology affect our five-year-old daughter who has never known any other way? Will she protest?

4. Does technology save time or waste time?

5. Is technology an expense we can live without or does it help save money?

6. Does technology hinder relationships by limiting face-to-face communication? Or does it improve relationships by making it possible to reach friends easily and instantly?

7. Will a life without technology bring more intimacy to a marriage? Or will it cause distance by not being able to keep in touch constantly?

8. Will living a life without e-mail, social networking, and Internet access cause a strain on friendships due to going against the mainstream? Will we become social outcasts? How will we handle the peer pressure?

9. Does technology help the environment by using less paper? Or does it hurt the environment by wasting electricity?

10. How will we handle the inconveniences of not having the Internet to look up phone numbers, movie listings, get directions or order items online?

 

What We are Unplugging:

• 1 digital video camera

• 2 iPhones, 1 Blackberry, 1 cell phone

• 2 TVs

• 4 iPods

• 4 digital cameras

• 5 computers

• 6 social networking accounts

• 7 domain names

• 7 blogs

• 8 e-mail accounts

• 9 online photo storage accounts

• 55 DVDs

• No CDs -- all digital music, except Katelyn’s books on CD

• Extensive iTunes library with music played wirelessly from our computer in the office to Bose speakers in the living room

• All banking done online

 

The Rules

Since “technology” is such a broad term, we felt the need for some guidelines for our technology sabbatical. Here’s what we came up with:

1. No TVs in our house, but if it’s on somewhere else, we can watch it, except at the gym (since we’re there nearly every day).

2. Keep a cell phone handy for emergencies only. Don’t answer unless it’s Katelyn’s school, a babysitter, or Jeff/Sharael (who knows not to call unless it is an emergency). Jeff can use his work cell phone for business calls only.

3. Can use only a 35 mm film camera. No digital cameras, including video.

4. No video games allowed, unless at a friend’s house.

5. No iTunes or iPods. Radio or CDs (we don’t currently own any) only.

6. No computer: This is the BIG one! This means no:

7. E-mail

8. Internet

9. Buying/Selling on Craigslist or eBay

10. Banking online

11. Social networking: Facebook, MySpace, Twitter

12. No maps with directions

13. No word processing application (a typewriter instead)

14. Technology can be used when it pertains to work (since we still need to make a living), but not for personal use and not at home. E-mail/Internet/Word processing can be used on a computer at the library or workplace, if needed for work purposes.

 

The Implementation

We chose national Turn Off TV Week, April 20-26, 2009, to kick off our unplugged lifestyle. Rather than give up everything at once, we decided to gradually wade into it and ditch one technology at a time as follows:

• Day 1: TV

• Day 2: Cell phone

• Day 3: Digital calendar

• Day 4 eBay/Craigslist

• Day 5: Digital photography/video

• Day 6: Online banking

• Day 7: Gaming

• Day 8: iTunes/iPod

• Day 9: Social networking: Facebook, Twitter

• Day 11: E-mail

• Day 12: Internet

• Day 13: Word processing

 

A Final Note

We hope this book inspires others to take a look at how technology affects their relationships, time, finances, and the environment...to become aware of their use of technology and to try to cut back in certain areas in an effort to improve their lives. Ideally, A Year Unplugged will spark conversations about limiting technology so that it becomes socially acceptable to not have a TV in your home, not always answer your cell phone, and not immediately respond to e-mail or texts, but rather save money, time and the environment while really getting to know loved ones, friends, and ourselves.