DITCH Issue 1 Preview

DITCH Find the buzz beyond addiction

“Screens light up the brain like cocaine” art in a phone-driven world

Issue_1_Spring

Material girl: become a club rat from scratch

Words and illustrations by Eva Cahill

vsfags

Phones

Phone addicts bear striking resemblance to smokers

W

hile phone addiction isn’t officially recognized as a disorder, the ways people try to quit them are surprisingly similar to the ways smokers try to ditch cigarettes.

It’s a line that gets thrown about casually and often: “I’m so addicted to my phone!”

Looking at the stats, it’s hard not to agree. Last year, Ofcom reported that the average screen time of 18–24-year-olds in the UK is six hours and one minute per day. While Gen Z increasingly feels pressured to, “Get off that damn phone! Go and touch some grass,” phone usage isn’t looking much better across any of the age groups.

The same Ofcom report revealed the average adult spends four hours and twenty minutes on their phone every day, while those over 65 aren’t far behind, averaging three hours and ten minutes.

It’s not unsurprising that we are all drawn to these little lightboxes filled with endless information. Our brains have evolved to be curious, connection-seeking and dopamine reliant. It’s in our nature. But that doesn’t mean it’s good for us.

A whole host of apps have launched in recent years, trying to help you peel your eyes away from the neverending hole of social media.

But DITCH couldn’t help but feel there were certain similarities between your nic-addicted friend’s last bid attempt to use the quitSTART smoking app, and your pal buying a flip phone and downloading the latest digital detox app. They’re both easing themselves off their dependencies, and they’ve both got some irritatingly positive cheerleader in the form of an app to supposedly keep them on track.

With this in mind, at DITCH we are interested in what similarities exist between fags and phones….

Meet Bob and Rob Bob and Rob are different in many ways. Bob is bald, Rob has spiky hair. Bob loves a doomscroll, and Rob can’t resist a toke. But their different vices lead to uncannily similar behavioural problems.

2. Crank up feelings of anxiety, lonelines and depression 1. What nicotine is to fags, notifications are to phones. Bob and Rob keep coming back for that sweet dopamine high, until their bad habits…

3. Tank their sleep quality

4. And leave them with dreaded withdrawals when they have to go without

If you feel like Bob, or Rob, don’t hold your gob. Get in touch with us on our @DITCH 05_DITCH_Tangent Instagram to tell us how addicted you are to your phone (we won’t judge…well).

Swipe at your

own risk

From threesomes to conspiracy theories: online dating horror stories

A

longside others I know, I am guilty of spending too much of my time on dating apps. That feeling you get when you match with someone online is great. Until they send you a disturbing message, or turn out to have a partner that is using these apps to cheat.

I spoke to three anonymous members of Cardiff’s single pool, to hear about their bad experiences of online dating.

Swiper one: Community support worker, 23 A few years ago, I was using dating apps. I was always a bit unsure of them, but my main platforms were on Tinder and Bumble. As a bi, mascpresenting woman, I found it a bit odd because people would make assumptions about me and that could be quite annoying.

One day, I matched with a guy on Tinder. I say hi. Straight away, I get a message back saying, “So would you want to join a threesome with my girlfriend and I? You seem gay.”

He was immediately blocked. To be honest, most of my online experiences were filled with men asking if I was 08_DITCH_Chat

“Turns out, she was here on behalf of her boyfriend, who was the guy I had been texting”

Words by Libbi Kettle Images by Chloe Thomas - Evans gay. Which obviously I am not, because otherwise I wouldn’t be coming up on your Tinder, would I? It became very repetitive, and I became irritated. So, I deleted them all. Now I’m dating my best friend from that time, and I’m happy. In short, screw dating apps!

Swiper two: Bartender, 25 I’d been talking to this guy on Grindr for about a week, sending frequent texts. He was very much my type.

He wasn’t very flirty, but asked me A LOT of questions about my hobbies, education, and travelling aspirations.

It kind of felt like I was being interviewed...which wasn’t actually too far from the truth.

We arranged to meet for drinks. When I got there, he messaged to say he’d be a few minutes late. So I grabbed a pint and a table.

I was sipping my cider as I looked up and found a girl waving at me. I was confused because I didn’t recognise her. So, I said, “Sorry, I think you’ve got me confused with someone.”

Turns out, she was here on behalf of her boyfriend, who was the guy I had been texting. Apparently, she had found some things left in his browser history that led her to believe he was gay. For their upcoming anniversary, she wanted to surprise him by finding him a replacement partner! In complete disbelief, I simply asked her. “Why?” She smiled and said “I just want him to be happy.”

I just said I wasn’t interested and

walked out. But I did meet my future boyfriend on the train home that night, so I guess every bad experience has its silver lining.

Swiper three: Student, 22 When I was 19, I was using Bumble.

With Bumble, you think you’re safe, because only women are allowed to message first. Wrong.

I messaged a guy I had matched with, because he seemed normal. Straight away, he began lecturing me on his political views and odd conspiracy theories. He started with pixelated images, then about satanists, and then the classic anti-vaccine rant.

When he eventually stopped, he then asked for my Snapchat.

I said no, and that I didn’t think our interests correlate. He then recommended a bunch of websites to check out, so that I can be cleansed from the “brainwashed, governmentplugged society that has stopped him from getting a girlfriend.”

I left him on read.

Surviving 24 hours without my phone DITCH writer Mia is forced to go phone-free

M

y phone is fine. Or at least, it was. It was sitting there, charging in its usual spot. I quickly went to check the time, tapping the screen impatiently. No response. So I tapped again but harder. Still no response. I angrily pushed the power button and still nothing. in the Victorian times. The panic started to set in.

It didn’t stop there. I had plans to meet a friend, but how would I know what time we were meeting? I wasn’t about to send her a pigeon, so I had to actually email her. There I was, waiting for her reply, feeling like I was navigating a lost world.

I felt like an absolute mess. I quickly realised just how dependent I’d become on this little device. I needed to check the time. What did I even do in the olden days when I couldn’t just glance at my phone? Oh right, a clock. I had to actually look at a wall clock like I was

And then later that day, came the ultimate crisis: I had to try and pay in cash. Physical cash, like actual money in my hand. I routed around in my purse and found my waitressing tips which consisted of ten onepound coins. I stashed them in my coat and sighed in relief, at least I was still able to get a coffee. Spoiler alert: I couldn’t actually buy one because they didn’t take cash!

“I didn’t die. In fact, I felt connected to the world around me”

My heart rate started increasing at an alarming rate. I realised my phone was dead. I sat there, staring at the blank screen, feeling like I’d just been sent back to the Stone Age. The world around me felt eerily quiet and as I stared at my blank bedroom wall I really started to wonder what I was going to do.

Then something strange happened: I started to adapt.

I enjoyed the things around me, like the dusty books on my shelf and I actually listened to people instead of typing half-hearted replies on my phone. I actually managed to sit through a whole film without scrolling.

By the time I reached the end of the 24 hours, and collected my friend’s spare phone, I realised I had survived. No phone, no crisis. I didn’t die. In fact, I felt more connected to the world around me. Sure, I was itching to check my messages and be able to listen to music on my walk to uni again, but maybe this whole “no phone” thing wasn’t so bad after all.

Still, I wouldn’t voluntarily have a broken phone again.

Illustration by Chloe Thomas-Evans

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Words by Lucy Dempsey Illustrations by Mia Tirion

dark truths Artist draws inspiration from childhood poem to unmask the dark truths behind phone addiction and brainrot

F

rom running her own business to now studying BA Illustration at UWE Bristol, 22-year-old artist Mia Tirion is already making waves in the creative world. With an eye-catching style and a fresh perspective, she’s one to keep on your radar.

At DITCH, we’re excited to dive into her latest project, Word and Image.

Drawing inspiration from Roald Dahl’s iconic poem Mike Teavee and her own concerns about the impact of technology - specifically brainrot among younger generations - Mia’s artwork fuses the surreal with the eerily familiar. In this exclusive interview, DITCH’s Cat sat down with Mia to talk tech, creativity, and the deeper meaning behind her work.

Okay, let’s talk about your interest in art growing up. Did you find it was kind of an escape for you?

Well, I’ve always enjoyed it. I remember having conversations with my Dad when I was younger like, ‘How much do artists make?’ He’s an architect so he used to teach me how to draw buildings in square form, and, honestly, that’s kind of my first memory of being like, ‘Damn, this is epic.’

Then I kind of lost interest. I think it was when GCSE Art was coming up, I was like wow, I better get good. And then it definitely became an escape for me.

So then I started Hafan Heulog. Where I crocheted and made money that way. It was fun, but after a while I treated myself like a machine. After about a year, I decided that uni definitely was for me. I was not done learning yet, basically.

I think it’s really common for art spaces online not to value education and there’s a kind of anti-intellectual sort of feel to it. Is that something you would agree with?

I agree. I think a lot of the people online have taught themselves, so they’re like, ‘You don’t need to [go to uni], you can just learn it online’. But when you’re learning online you lack so much of the finesse.

For ages I was thought, I’m an introvert so I’m fine not being around people, but being on your phone all the time is the most brain-shrinking activity you could be doing. Like, yes, it’s social media. But no, it’s not very social. Seeing people’s expressions in real life, interacting with people in real life, that’s what teaches you about who you are as a person.

If you’re at home all the time on your phone, you’re not getting that.

Speaking on the topic of phones and technology. What was your relationship with tech growing up?

I remember playing on my DS when I was younger and pushing it under the pillow when my parents walked in. I was always playing games as a child and I don’t think that was necessarily a bad thing.

I want to touch on your journey “The fact that our Then I discovered Videostar, which taught me to University. You mentioned that you were selling your own brain looks the same to edit. I always think back on my relationship art for a bit before deciding to with technology and on one hand I’m like, when we’re addicted ‘Damn, I wish I was doing something else,’ go to University, right?

Yeah. I never wanted to go to Uni, to screens as we are but on the other hand I wouldn’t be the because I believed that art courses were person I am today without any of that. I’m glad to cocaine is crazy” I had the experience of technology that I did, but a waste of money and a bit of a scam.

It was actually my art foundation year at I kind of wish I wasn’t on it as much. college that led me to what is now Hafan Heulog (Tirion’s online art shop). I didn’t know what to do for my final project and my tutor said, ‘You should try creating a small business.’

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Ditching the doomscroll A

re you guilty of doomscrolling Tiktok as soon as you wake up? Yeah, me too.

DITCH writer Molly B takes on no scroll challenge

I reach for my phone before I’ve even fully opened my eyes, scrolling through whatever the algorithm throws at me—bad news, memes, productivity hacks I’ll never use.

I’m not the only one. 81% of people in the UK reach for their phones as soon as they wake up, and 75% head straight to social media.

So, I ditched my morning doomscroll for a five day working week, to see if I could actually survive without it. I wanted to see how easy it’d be to wake up, and how long I could last before clawing for my phone again. Each morning, I swapped it out for something else and see if anything could shake me out of my zombie state

is challeng

Day 1 -

th got to do Guess I’ve

e

The first day hit the hardest. I woke up before my alarm, fighting the urge to check my notifications and convincing myself I could always start the challenge tomorrow. My inner phone addict wanted to relapse before I’d even begun. Fighting the urge, I reluctantly picked up a book. It took a minute to actually focus, but eventually, I realised I kinda liked carving out time to read—something I would’ve never bothered with if I was still glued to my phone. And when I eventually checked my phone? I was met with my screen time notification. The irony.

g

ittin Day 2 - S

despara in silence,

croll

te for a s

I found it easier to wake up on day two, thrilled to leap out of bed for the exhilarating task of... meditating. I hoped for inner peace in a world of algorithms and dwindling attention spans—but instead, I just got very bored. I’ve always used guided meditation to help with my easily distracted mind (thanks, TikTok!) but this time I sat in silence. It did the job of waking me up, since I had to actually get out of bed, but I was seriously craving the dopamine rush of my FYP.

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g

cisin use* exer

ic pa ...*dramat tside and

g ou

oin Day 3 - G

On day one, I thought waking up and reading was hard. I was wrong. I hadn’t tried waking up and going for a run. I put on my trainers, scraped my hair back and forced myself out into the brisk winter air—because why not torture myself? And, unfortunately, I felt kinda great. I’d ticked exercise off my to-do list and it wasn’t even 7.00am. I’d been outside, I was up and ready to face the day, all before I’d even checked my phone.

r Day 4 - W

tions t my emo u o b a g in it

ver or whate

Channelling my teenage self and writing in my diary was fine, I guess. It was a pretty nice way to start my day, but not particularly groundbreaking. I wrote all about my thoughts and dreams and aspirations instead of watching others live their filtered lives through my phone screen, then I cracked on with the rest of my day.

nd Day 5 - A

if you tho

uldn’t ge ught it co

se t any wor

I saved the task I was dreading most for last, and it met all my worst expectations. Cold showers are not for the weak, and as you may have guessed it, it’s me, I’m the weak. The shock factor, however, was incredibly effective at waking me up. It wasn’t the gentle, ease-into-the-day kind of wake-up that a scroll would’ve given me. It was more of a fight or flight, panic mode. But I was up, I was awake and most importantly – I wasn’t on my phone.

By the end of the week, getting up felt less like a battle, and my phone didn’t have as much of a death grip on me first thing. The change was subtle but noticeable, like a weight I hadn’t realised I was carrying had been lifted.

Some things, like reading, I’d definitely continue. My conclusion? Maybe skip the scroll as soon as you wake up.

But also, maybe don’t torture yourself with a cold shower either.

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