For many people, the start of a new year brings a fresh promise - that this time will be different, that we'll finally kick our worst habits and change our ways. But for me, it's the same story every year: I find myself instinctively checking my phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media feeds as if trying to fill some existential void.
It's an old habit, one that's hard to break, but also crucially important to break. Because as we scroll endlessly, our minds are constantly bombarded by information - news, trends, what others are doing with their lives - and it's easy to get sucked into the vortex of comparing ourselves to others. We're constantly on edge, waiting for the next update, waiting for some new signal that we need to adjust our course.
This year, however, I've taken a different approach. Instead of mindlessly scrolling through my phone, I've replaced it with an old friend - my Game Boy Advance. I've been playing Pokémon FireRed, a remake of the original games from 2006. It's not about escapism; it's about taking control.
I know some people might think that gaming is a luxury we can't afford, that there are more pressing issues to worry about. But for me, gaming has become essential to my mental wellbeing. It's low-stakes entertainment - no pressure, no expectations - just the gentle hum of pixels and the soothing sounds of electronic music.
The result so far? My phone usage is already down by three hours a week since I started playing Pokémon FireRed. That might not sound like much, but it makes a difference when you're talking about something that's taken up such a huge chunk of our lives.
It also seems to be having an impact on my broader wellbeing. By removing myself from the constant stream of updates and information, I'm able to stop overthinking and begin tackling some existential dread that I've been feeling lately. It's not about ignoring problems or turning a blind eye; it's about giving myself space to breathe.
Playing Pokémon FireRed in 2026 feels like a radical act - but one that's working for me. It's not about technology on its own, but about the spaces we create for ourselves. We need those spaces to exist outside of our screens, and I'm hoping this journey will help us reclaim them.
So if you're struggling with the same habits - social media, doomscrolling, comparison - take a cue from my friend Shigeru Miyamoto, who once said that 'the most valuable resource is time'.
It's an old habit, one that's hard to break, but also crucially important to break. Because as we scroll endlessly, our minds are constantly bombarded by information - news, trends, what others are doing with their lives - and it's easy to get sucked into the vortex of comparing ourselves to others. We're constantly on edge, waiting for the next update, waiting for some new signal that we need to adjust our course.
This year, however, I've taken a different approach. Instead of mindlessly scrolling through my phone, I've replaced it with an old friend - my Game Boy Advance. I've been playing Pokémon FireRed, a remake of the original games from 2006. It's not about escapism; it's about taking control.
I know some people might think that gaming is a luxury we can't afford, that there are more pressing issues to worry about. But for me, gaming has become essential to my mental wellbeing. It's low-stakes entertainment - no pressure, no expectations - just the gentle hum of pixels and the soothing sounds of electronic music.
The result so far? My phone usage is already down by three hours a week since I started playing Pokémon FireRed. That might not sound like much, but it makes a difference when you're talking about something that's taken up such a huge chunk of our lives.
It also seems to be having an impact on my broader wellbeing. By removing myself from the constant stream of updates and information, I'm able to stop overthinking and begin tackling some existential dread that I've been feeling lately. It's not about ignoring problems or turning a blind eye; it's about giving myself space to breathe.
Playing Pokémon FireRed in 2026 feels like a radical act - but one that's working for me. It's not about technology on its own, but about the spaces we create for ourselves. We need those spaces to exist outside of our screens, and I'm hoping this journey will help us reclaim them.
So if you're struggling with the same habits - social media, doomscrolling, comparison - take a cue from my friend Shigeru Miyamoto, who once said that 'the most valuable resource is time'.