Are you having digital seizures?

Over the years, through feedback from others and even watching recordings of my having focal awareness impaired seizures, I've learned what would happen if I were to have a seizure while conversing with a friend.

I would repeat the same phrase. Lose eye contact. Tap my fingers. Disconnect from the room. Then, when it passed, I often remembered nothing.

It's a bit unsettling, not only because of what takes place in my brain, but because it showed me something I now see everywhere. Only in a digital sense.

A phone buzzes.

Someone reaches for it without thinking.

Eye contact disappears.

Fingers start tapping.

They nod along to the conversation, but they are not really there.

A few minutes later, they may not remember what was said, what their child asked, or what moment just slipped by.

That is what I call a digital seizure.

To be clear, my medical seizures are involuntary. I do not choose them. They are neurological events that interrupt my presence and memory.

But digital seizures are different.

They are not medical. They are habitual.

A digital seizure happens when a notification, endless feed, or checking habit short-circuits our attention. It pulls us out of the room. It fragments our focus. It takes away eye contact. It keeps us from forming meaningful memories with the people right in front of us.

And it happens fast.

One buzz during dinner.
One quick scroll in the driveway.
One glance at email while a child is telling a story.
One “I’m listening” while our eyes are somewhere else.

Devices are not evil. Phones help us work, connect, learn, create, and stay safe. But they are never neutral in the moment. They are either serving the life we want, or quietly pulling us away from it.

James Clear wrote, “When you envision what you want your life to be like, it is easy to see the value in taking actions with long-term benefits. We all want better lives for our future selves.”

That is where this starts.

Not with guilt.
Not with throwing every device away.
With vision.

What kind of parent do I want to be at the dinner table?

What kind of spouse, friend, or follower of God do I want to be when someone needs my full attention?

What do I want my children to remember about being near me?

Here are three simple actions you can take today:

1. Name the moment.
When you feel the impulse to check your phone, quietly say, “This is a digital seizure.” Naming it creates a pause. That pause gives you back a choice.

2. Create one phone-free zone.
Choose one daily space where your phone does not come with you: dinner, bedtime, the school pickup line, a walk, or the first 20 minutes after work. Keep it small enough to actually do.

3. Replace the reach.
Your hand will still want something to do. Instead of grabbing your phone, make eye contact, take a breath, ask one better question, or simply stay present for ten more seconds.

Presence is built in small moments.

So is distraction.

Today, notice one digital seizure when it happens. Then choose one boundary that protects your presence.

If you try it, I’d love to hear what you noticed. What moment pulled you in, and what boundary helped you stay present?