Reducing Apple Watch notifications to get our lives back

Somewhere between the first time I tapped my wrist to skip a song and the three hundredth time I anxiously checked my resting heart rate, I started to hate my Apple Watch.

I get it. Joan’s journey isn't unique. When we first saw the Apple Watch unveiled our minds filled with imagination of infinity possibilities. A decade later and it’s a solid device I wear everyday—but it’s not perfect.

It’s a limited version of the iPhone, but with the potential to be more intimate.

At first, it’s exciting. You learn how long you sleep, how fast your heart beats, how many steps you walk. But knowledge invites expectation. And expectation breeds disappointment. A night of rest that feels refreshing gets downgraded by your sleep score. A jog becomes unsatisfying if the zone chart looks too flat. Even sitting still can trigger a guilt-inducing vibration to "stand up and move."

Here’s where my approach to smartwatch wearing is different. In some areas of my life I’m incredibly bothered by notifications, new messages, etc. If I see a red bubble I must check it and address it.

But since the first few weeks of wearing an Apple Watch I’ve shut off all notifications. There are not bubbles, messages, or anything else. The device sitting on my screen can’t buzz, vibrate, or make a sound. It’s entirely passive. If I want to check a message I can, but it takes multiple taps and offers zero indication on the screen to set my anxiety on edge.

I also track sleep. But in a limited way. Most mornings I check how many hours of sleep I got, see if that roughly lines up with how I feel, and go about my day. I don’t know if this does me any good or not, but it’s validating to realize that I did in fact wake up 6 times and got only a few hours of sleep. Knowing that gives me permission to be a bit more kind to myself throughout the day.

With running I have a very light touch as well. I want to know my distance, and have a general sense of speed. But beyond that I don’t care. I’m more interested in getting in runs over the months and years, less so over improving my pace week to week. In fact, I haven’t pushed for or tracked against metrics toward a race in a decade.

That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t, or have no interest. But right now my approach to exercise is more of a calmness. I go based on how I feel, listening to my body. And in this case the watch doesn’t get in my way.

But I see how it could. For instance if I see my inbox with even a single message in it I feel the need to address it. For some this is how the smartwatch works.

[…] It pings. It buzzes. It gives you little taps, like a child tugging on a sleeve. And each tap is a fork in the road: attend to your body, or attend to your device? This conflict isn’t always conscious, which is what makes it so dangerous. You lose the thread without realizing it. You forget what the body felt like before it was measured.

I couldn’t handle this. On my phone as well I’ve turned off all notifications and buzzes and sounds—with two exceptions. Namely, if my wife or son call twice in a row it will break through do not disturb. And if I set an alarm it will break through. Other than that all my smart devices are passive listeners for when I choose to use them.

Now, does that mean I’ve got things solved? Not at all. I still wrestle daily with these things that pull me in and demand more and more. I check email and messages and Slack hundreds of times a day. I don’t know how to solve this, so it is a problem. But at least the devices don’t have the ability to demand my attention when I’m actually in the zone and focused.

[…] You push through fatigue because the recovery index says you’re "ready." You stop asking how you feel and start asking how you’re performing. Before long, your body is not you. It’s your employee.

This is such a great point. It’s easy to give up reliance to a machine and ignore the electrical signals our bodies are trying to send. I’ve gotten better about this in recent years. If I’m feeling cruddy I skip the run and try and get extra sleep. I’m more interested in maintaining the ability to keep this up for decades to come, and less worried about missing out on a single run.

In Homer’s Iliad, Cassandra could see the future but was cursed that no one would believe her warnings. Smartwatches seem to carry the opposite curse—they constantly warn us about things that don’t matter (step counts, heart rate dips, notification badges) while we’re compelled to believe every alert is urgent.

I can see Joan’s point, and agree with it. I’m thankful that I’ve found a way to make the watch work, and enjoy the parts that delight me—such as Shazaam music recognition, checking the weather, time, calendar, etc.

Via Westenberg.