Breaking up is hard to do
A few months ago, I realized I’d developed a rather committed relationship with the New York Times crossword. And actually, it wasn’t just the crossword. There were the other games (except Spelling Bee…who even plays that?) and, of course, the news.
I’m not alone in my addiction to the little glowing rectangle. It was always at the ready, offering comfort, distraction, and two separate NYT apps to choose from. And really, why choose?
I told myself obsessive news-ingesting and crossword-grid-filling was intellectual—surely better than scrolling social media—but if I’m honest, it was more like nightly glasses of digital wine. Accompanied by actual glasses of real wine. A soothing little portal out of overthinking and into a grid of black-and-white squares that had zero expectations of me.
But I did them ALL THE TIME. When watching Gilmore Girls with my daughter and Great British Bake Off with my family, I’d lean against the headboard and tap away at an archived puzzle from August 2023 (because I’ve done every single Monday-Thursday puzzle since then…Friday to Sunday are above my pay grade at the moment).
I did them waiting in line. On the toilet. When I had a spare 15 minutes before Izzy’s bus arrived—”It’s just not enough time to do anything else.” When I’d get back from my morning walk and “just take a minute to relax” on the couch. While Izzy did her homework next to me. Any pocket of time I had, I filled it with my buddy.
After a while, though, I started to feel the itch to pull back—to spend less time living inside those apps and more time in actual life. I wanted to read more, write more, and be present with the people in front of me instead of the headlines on my screen. To participate in life life, not the New York Times app version of life.
I’d been thinking about cutting back for months—I just didn’t know how. Which is hilarious, because this is literally what I do for a living. It’s not exactly my coaching niche (cultivating confidence in young female leaders and thriving in the messiness for women in midlife), but breaking patterns and creating new ones definitely comes up. I’ve successfully coached many people through this very thing. I’ve even written exercises about it! Apparently, I just needed to take my own advice.
Last week my daughter had a break from school so we popped over to Budapest for a holibobs (new fave British slang). On the plane, my daughter (knowing my addiction to crosswords and despising that they regularly sucked me away from her) asked if we could move the NYT Games app into her folder on my phone—so we could do the puzzles together. I did it, not realizing that that one small gesture was going to shift everything.
Suddenly, the crosswords weren’t mine to disappear into—they became something we shared. Now I only open the app when she asks. And because I’m not constantly doing them, she actually does ask. They’ve transformed from my solitary obsession into our little ritual—something light and sweet that connects us instead of numbs me.
The wild thing? Once I stopped doing them alone, the compulsion evaporated. I didn’t need to fill the silence anymore. Now, instead of tapping that shiny little box at night, I read, I write, I sleep, I listen to a calming meditation, or I watch Task with my husband (total opposite of calming meditation). The point is: my nights feel a tad more spacious again.
I just listened to my friend April Jay Tasi’s podcast, That’s What Spirit Said, where she articulated, so perfectly, in her witchy-yet-pragmatic way, the same exercise she and I had done together a few weeks earlier. (Episode: “Breaking Up with Instagram.” Highly recommend.)
Here’s the gist:
Identify the habit that’s not serving you. Be honest. What’s taking your time, attention, or peace—and not giving much back?
Ask: What am I getting from this? Every habit—yes, even the ones we want to quit—serves a purpose. Maybe it gives you comfort, escape, stimulation, or a dopamine hit (like the tiny symphony the app plays when you finish a puzzle). My crosswords gave me all of those things at different times. When April did this same reflection about Instagram, she named comfort, a break, connection, and a little dash of taboo (that “I shouldn’t, but I am” feeling).
Find healthier replacements for each need. Comfort? Reading in bed. Escape? Stepping outside barefoot and looking at the sky. Stimulation? Doing a puzzle with Izzy or writing something that makes my brain spark.
Expect withdrawal—and give yourself grace. When you remove the habit, your brain will protest. You’ll crave that hit. That’s normal. Don’t power through it. Nurture yourself through it. Validate your feelings. Keep an easy-dopamine list nearby—little things that make you feel good quickly (a song, a stretch, 15 minutes of writing, a voice note to a friend, cleaning out a cupboard). And remind yourself what’s actually important to you.
April’s breakup with Instagram and my breakup with the NY Times crossword were really the same story. It was us learning to honor what the habit was giving us and finding those things in healthier, more intentional ways.
Now, when I reach for my phone at night, I pause. I ask, What am I actually needing right now? Usually, it’s not a crossword. It’s connection. It’s quiet. It’s rest.
And those things? They don’t live in an app.
