Constant Headphone Use Was Numbing My Mind — Maybe Yours, Too
When Apple Airpods debuted ten years ago, I doubted the wireless headphone trend would catch on. It wasn’t just the appearance of the silly little ear tubes that made me hesitant; I truly wasn’t convinced by the underlying notion that such seamless, constant connection to our phones would be necessary. It implied a need to multitask to the highest degree, to integrate the virtual world — already so present back then — even more into our daily lives. Fast forward a decade, and not only has around-the-clock digital connection become the lifeblood of modern society, but the use of headphones (wired or not) is now integral to the way we survive, thrive, and optimize our lives. Like everyone else, I too became as attached to my Airpods as I was to my phone. At peak distraction post-pandemic, my headphones were as essential to my days as hard-soled shoes: I wouldn’t leave my apartment without them on. I latched on to all the new podcasts that caught my attention, delighted by the endless niches tailored to my interests, and allowed streaming algorithms to sway me towards curated playlists and suggested listening. An eclectic music taste started to find me, as did the music commentaries, the cultural interviews, and the pairs of funny, chatty women who felt like my own friends keeping me company. I ditched my earlier judgment that listening to audiobooks didn’t count as reading, because the reality was too hard to deny: there simply wasn’t enough time to do it all. The downside of it all? I started to erase the quiet moments once reserved for deep thinking and reflection, and closed myself off from the social interactions, however miniscule, that so often provided a sense of community. I siloed myself in a bubble that felt expansive when really it was numbing, and ultimately, I stopped being present. The audio-fication of modern media unlocked a whole new level of digital access and also, as a result, an all-too-common habit of being always on. Today, being ‘chronically online’ can either be a tongue-in-cheek brag, or a semi-concerning prognosis. Not only are we inundated with audio-based media, but the barrage of short-form video content shows no sign of slowing, and with AI continuing to expand its reach (see: Spotify’s new AI-generated podcasts) there’s no real knowing what our online lives will look like even a month from now. Last year, a study by Nielsen and Edison Research indicated that Americans listened to around four hours of media a day, while Ofcom reported that over a fifth of UK adults listened to at least one podcast a week. At the moment there isn’t much stopping us from replacing our thoughts with easy entertainment and distraction; continuously increasing our productivity and our awareness of the world; and relying on tools for focusing, calming down, or even falling asleep. It wasn’t until this past year, after quitting my full-time job (at Refinery29) and moving to a new city to write a book, that I became reacquainted with the stream of my own consciousness. In an attempt to reconnect with myself and my creativity, and to be more present in my new environment, I slowly began to leave the headphones at home or tucked away in my bag. The little moments of magic happened in spurts. In a local cafe last summer, I ended up chatting with the woman sitting beside me rather than isolating myself with my earbuds. I learned we were randomly from the same hometown and we soon became friends. On my daily walks that I’d normally fill with lengthy podcasts, my thoughts have continuously surprised me, resulting in the creation of many of my novel’s plot points, and even the idea for this article. But I also understand that silence isn’t always comfortable, and headphones can provide a tangible reprieve from the chaos and overwork of modern life. Whether you’re neurodivergent and benefit from a barrier from overstimulating surroundings, or you’re socially anxious and find comfort in a safe, accessible bubble, there are plenty of legitimate reasons to keep your headphones on — especially in public. But as with any habit that may involve extremes, learning how and when to apply moderation is the key to balance. “When it comes to technology use, it’s not all good or all bad, but it is important to be mindful of how you choose to use it, rather than being on autopilot,” neuroscientist Julie Fratantoni tells Refinery29. Fratantoni, who writes about cognitive wellness in her newsletter Better Brain, acknowledges that constant stimulation can be a form of stress on the nervous system (it can also disrupt your hormones) and emphasizes the importance of conscious disconnection. “Little pockets of boredom allow the default mode network — also called the imagination network, where creative ideas flow from — to come online,” Fratantoni says. “It also creates opportunities for social interaction. In an increasingly lonely society, simply making eye contact, a smile, or a wave can be nourishing to th
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When Apple Airpods debuted ten years ago, I doubted the wireless headphone trend would catch on. It wasn’t just the appearance of the silly little ear tubes that made me hesitant; I truly wasn’t convinced by the underlying notion that such seamless, constant connection to our phones would be necessary. It implied a need to multitask to the highest degree, to integrate the virtual world — already so present back then — even more into our daily lives. Fast forward a decade, and not only has around-the-clock digital connection become the lifeblood of modern society, but the use of headphones (wired or not) is now integral to the way we survive, thrive, and optimize our lives.
Like everyone else, I too became as attached to my Airpods as I was to my phone. At peak distraction post-pandemic, my headphones were as essential to my days as hard-soled shoes: I wouldn’t leave my apartment without them on. I latched on to all the new podcasts that caught my attention, delighted by the endless niches tailored to my interests, and allowed streaming algorithms to sway me towards curated playlists and suggested listening. An eclectic music taste started to find me, as did the music commentaries, the cultural interviews, and the pairs of funny, chatty women who felt like my own friends keeping me company. I ditched my earlier judgment that listening to audiobooks didn’t count as reading, because the reality was too hard to deny: there simply wasn’t enough time to do it all. The downside of it all? I started to erase the quiet moments once reserved for deep thinking and reflection, and closed myself off from the social interactions, however miniscule, that so often provided a sense of community. I siloed myself in a bubble that felt expansive when really it was numbing, and ultimately, I stopped being present.
The audio-fication of modern media unlocked a whole new level of digital access and also, as a result, an all-too-common habit of being always on. Today, being ‘chronically online’ can either be a tongue-in-cheek brag, or a semi-concerning prognosis. Not only are we inundated with audio-based media, but the barrage of short-form video content shows no sign of slowing, and with AI continuing to expand its reach (see: Spotify’s new AI-generated podcasts) there’s no real knowing what our online lives will look like even a month from now. Last year, a study by Nielsen and Edison Research indicated that Americans listened to around four hours of media a day, while Ofcom reported that over a fifth of UK adults listened to at least one podcast a week. At the moment there isn’t much stopping us from replacing our thoughts with easy entertainment and distraction; continuously increasing our productivity and our awareness of the world; and relying on tools for focusing, calming down, or even falling asleep.
It wasn’t until this past year, after quitting my full-time job (at Refinery29) and moving to a new city to write a book, that I became reacquainted with the stream of my own consciousness. In an attempt to reconnect with myself and my creativity, and to be more present in my new environment, I slowly began to leave the headphones at home or tucked away in my bag. The little moments of magic happened in spurts. In a local cafe last summer, I ended up chatting with the woman sitting beside me rather than isolating myself with my earbuds. I learned we were randomly from the same hometown and we soon became friends. On my daily walks that I’d normally fill with lengthy podcasts, my thoughts have continuously surprised me, resulting in the creation of many of my novel’s plot points, and even the idea for this article.
But I also understand that silence isn’t always comfortable, and headphones can provide a tangible reprieve from the chaos and overwork of modern life. Whether you’re neurodivergent and benefit from a barrier from overstimulating surroundings, or you’re socially anxious and find comfort in a safe, accessible bubble, there are plenty of legitimate reasons to keep your headphones on — especially in public. But as with any habit that may involve extremes, learning how and when to apply moderation is the key to balance. “When it comes to technology use, it’s not all good or all bad, but it is important to be mindful of how you choose to use it, rather than being on autopilot,” neuroscientist Julie Fratantoni tells Refinery29. Fratantoni, who writes about cognitive wellness in her newsletter Better Brain, acknowledges that constant stimulation can be a form of stress on the nervous system (it can also disrupt your hormones) and emphasizes the importance of conscious disconnection.
“Little pockets of boredom allow the default mode network — also called the imagination network, where creative ideas flow from — to come online,” Fratantoni says. “It also creates opportunities for social interaction. In an increasingly lonely society, simply making eye contact, a smile, or a wave can be nourishing to the brain. If you’re wearing headphones and distracted, you miss out on these microdoses of connection.”
This less streamlined approach has been at the centre of a recent trend dubbed “friction-maxxing,” which, ironically, is one of the many viral, gamified “maxxing” movements poised towards self-optimization. The trend highlights social friction (i.e, natural inconveniences that make life a little less smooth and remove instant gratification) as a way to heal our attention spans and allow us to be more present. Tactics for friction-maxxing include: writing by hand rather than keyboard, reading physical books, and not using ChatGPT for every personal dilemma. This growing interest in the analogue lifestyle (especially among younger adults) potentially points to deeper concerns about the ways we interact with technology… and why.
“It’s super political to be able to tolerate friction and tolerate difference,” says Anouchka Grose, a psychoanalyst and author of the new book The Revolution Will be Internalized. “[It’s] really important for people to recognize that there are limits: there are limits to your own ego, and there are limits to your own will, and managing all of that in relation to others.” Grose’s work revolves around the fact that change — both inner and outer— starts inside our minds, and given the nature of our increasingly digital lives and, more importantly, futures, there’s never been a more pertinent time to contemplate how our habits — both online and offline — shape the space we take up in the world.
When I asked Grose what she thought about the connection between removing my headphones and this deeper sense of reclaiming something much bigger, she said that all these inconveniences and awkward silences and discomforts that we are trying to numb are, in truth, the real excitements of life. “If you have an AI partner, and you do all your shopping online, and live your life through social media, and don’t actually meet people, besides whatever the terrible risks are at the end of the spectrum, it just won’t be fun,” she says.
And I couldn’t agree more. Because, in the process of opening myself back up to my own thoughts and the world around me — as messy and unpredictable as it can be, but at the same time eye-opening and beautiful — it’s as if I’ve suddenly been reacquainted with all the best parts about being human.
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