By Hannah Brencher

This story began on my thirty-third birthday.

I sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of my friend’s screened-in porch, breathing in the quiet stillness of the early morning. The humidity that sits heavily in the Florida air, always making sure its presence is felt, seeped into the open space all around me. The sounds of my husband’s and daughter’s laughter tangled together from inside the house.

I took a sip of my coffee, the steam rising from the mug, and quietly welcomed myself into another year of life. I’ve spent so many birthdays in this exact spot—surrounded by friends who’ve morphed into family over many years and seasons.

This beach house has become a benchmark of sorts in my life. I’ve forged a tradition of sitting in this same spot, year after year, with a cup of coffee, a Bible, and a journal. I reflect on the previous year and build a fresh vision for the year ahead.

Most people simply enjoy a few well wishes on their birthday, eat some cake, and leave it at that. I envy those people, but I’ve never been one of them. I’ve always treated my birthday like a second New Year’s—an excuse to concoct a dramatic plan to change everything about my life in 365 days or less. Since my birthday falls on the last day of May, it’s almost the perfect halfway mark in the year.

Transformation has always felt alluring to me. I love the possibilities that come with change. Few things motivate me more than turning to the teeming potential of a blank calendar page at the start of a new month. But on this birthday, I was starting to wonder if the present moment—and who I was in it—would ever be enough.

The previous year felt marked by a tiredness I couldn’t quite name. I didn’t have a vision for the year ahead. I felt exhaustion instead of excitement. Yet everything in my life was good. From the looks of things, I was doing just fine. But still, a growing weariness loomed beneath the surface, and I knew I would have to face it eventually.

I flipped between checking apps and responding to birthday texts as I attempted to set a goal for the coming year. Maybe I could grow my business. I could take on a new side hustle. Or I could finally become a runner. And that’s when I felt it. A gentle nudge in my spirit seemed to come out of nowhere, impressing me with four words:

Turn off your phone.

That’s the best way I can describe it to you—a nudge, a voice within that didn’t sound anxious or tired. It felt strong yet somehow soft at the same time. It felt like peace and sureness—a sense that something good awaited me if I would simply listen to the instructions.

Turn off your phone.

I’ve lived enough years to know that these kinds of nudges—the ones that are almost audible—don’t happen all that often. So when they do, I know to pay attention to them.

I turned off my phone at that moment, not even giving it a second thought.

I kept my phone off for the rest of that day. I wasn’t anxiously checking it, wondering if enough people had remembered my birthday. I felt engaged in the day. I felt deeply connected to the people around me. I felt celebrated and seen, unhurried and at rest.

For the first time in a while, my life felt like it was enough just as it was. I didn’t need to fix it or change it or make it better somehow.

I experienced more joy in those twelve hours than I had felt all year—completely powered down and present. There was already something to these unplugged hours.

Keep Turning Off Your Phone

Something in me knew the unplugging wasn’t a onetime thing. It wasn’t a quick fix, as if I could turn off my phone for one day and reap all the benefits at once. It was more like, Turn off your phone and keep turning it off. There are things to learn here. It’s going to take some time.

It was a call toward something deeper—an invitation away from the life of constant connectedness I’d built for myself and into something far better.

Over the days following my birthday, a challenge began to emerge. I settled on a goal of one thousand unplugged hours in one year. One thousand unplugged hours over one year equaled a few intentionally powered-down hours daily.

I didn’t want to be completely disconnected from technology, but I was curious to see if a balance could be fought for and eventually won. I defined what an unplugged hour would look like for me: no phone, no email, no TV or streaming.

I created a tracker composed of one thousand tiny bubbles. Each bubble represented a single hour unplugged. When you’re forging a new habit or building a new lifestyle, it helps to document your progress, measure the process in some tangible way, and be specific with the results wherever you can. I printed out the tracker and hung it on a set of antique school lockers in my office, where I would see it every day.

From there, I started turning off my phone one hour at a time. And so began my journey to something far better.

________

Adapted from The Unplugged Hours: Cultivating a Life of Presence in a Digitally Connected World, by Hannah Brencher. Click here to learn more about his book.

No matter what you do for a living, how much time your apps save you, or how much entertainment your phone brings, it is possible to unplug—and find an even better life on the other side.

In the spring of 2021, Hannah Brencher found herself depleted and exhausted—and she knew the culprit was her constantly plugged-in lifestyle. Like so many of us, Hannah had been turning to her phone to cope with life in a time of isolation and uncertainty. Those coping mechanisms had calcified into habits she didn't know how to break. Sound familiar?

That's when the nudge happened. Turn off your phone and keep turning off your phone. And a challenge was born: 1,000 unplugged hours in one year. Soon after she shared her tracker sheet on her website, thousands of people downloaded it and signed up for their own 1,000-hour challenge.

Now in The Unplugged Hours, Hannah demonstrates how the act of powering down changed her entire life. It's a strikingly small thing to do and a surprisingly difficult habit to maintain, but turning off your phone has a substantial impact on your mental health, relationships, time management, and outlook on the world.

A powerful weaving of memoir, cultural commentary, and spiritual insights, this life-changing book helps you:

• Reclaim your ability to be present and engaged with the world around you
• Swap the hurried, constant pace of technology for a steadier, more rooted way of living
• Establish your own unplugged rituals and rhythms in daily life
• Uncover the magic within the ordinary awaiting you just beyond the screen

The Unplugged Hours gives you the practical ideas and spiritual inspiration you need to stop scrolling and start living.

Hannah Brencher is a writer, TED speaker, and entrepreneur. She founded The World Needs More Love Letters, a global community dedicated to sending letter bundles to those who need encouragement.

Named as one of the White House’s “Women Working to Do Good,” Hannah has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, Oprah, Glamour, USATODAY.com, the Chicago Tribune, and more.

She lives in Atlanta with her husband, Lane, and daughter Novalee. Find Hannah at hannahbrencher.com.