Earlier this week in Manhattan, I took a break from work to meet a guy in The Oculus at the World Trade Center. He had responded to my ad on Facebook Marketplace. He handed me cash, and I handed him my Apple Watch. And I haven’t looked back since.
Giving up on my Apple Watch was something I had been debating for months before finally pulling the trigger. In the end, I let it go because it slowly stopped doing what it promised to do and started doing something else entirely.
For me, the beginning of the end came a couple of years ago, when I finished sleeve tattoos on both arms. Apple Watches have long had trouble with on-wrist detection through tattoos. That isn’t news. What surprised me was how inconsistent the experience became. Some days, I would put the watch on, enter my pin once, and it would behave normally until I took it off at night. Other days, I would unlock it and watch it immediately lock itself again. And again. And again.
There was no pattern. No explanation. Just constant interruption and inconsistency.
When a Tool Becomes A Pain Point
The unpredictability is what made it exhausting. Not catastrophic or life-ruining. Just constantly irritating.
The moments where it mattered most were always the worst ones. Standing at a register, trying to pay, realizing the watch had locked itself again. Coming up to a PATH turnstile at Newark Penn, people stacked up behind me, gloves on because it was four degrees outside, reaching my wrist forward and thinking, please don’t be locked. And then it was.
Micro-annoyances have a way of aggregating. One locked payment doesn’t ruin your day. Twenty of them, spread across errands, commuting, workouts, and routine tasks, absolutely can. It starts to feel like the technological equivalent of a toddler repeatedly asking “why.” Nothing is broken enough to justify outrage, but nothing works smoothly enough to fade into the background and be forgettable either.
Attention Is a Finite Resource
That frustration opened the door to a larger realization I had been avoiding. I was already growing tired of constant notifications. Not just the volume of them, but the assumption behind them. That everything deserved immediate attention. That every vibration carried urgency.
I have spent years building rules and filters to tame that noise. Gmail filters to prevent unnecessary alerts. App notifications trimmed down to only the most essential.
The notification overload became impossible to ignore at work as well. My role means I am available during the day, and I take that responsibility seriously. But availability has limits. I noticed how often notifications followed me onto trains, into my car, and through my commute home. Emails arriving not because something was urgent, but because other people had finally found time to send them.
None of these notifications required immediate action. But the constant drip of alerts made it feel like I was never truly off.
I am not anti-technology. Far from it. I love technology. I follow it closely. I use it to build systems that make work more efficient. I have always believed in tools that save time.
I have also always believed that my time is my most valuable asset, one that needs to be protected. That belief goes back to my days freelancing and contracting, billing by the hour.
But time is not the only important asset. My attention can be just as valuable.
And if my attention has legitimate and tangible value, why am I allowing it to be monopolized by a screen a glance away on my wrist?
The watch had become an indefensible distraction, continuously pulling my focus away from whatever I was doing.
The Realization That Enough Is Enough
Once you start asking those questions, they multiply. Yes, paying with a watch is convenient, but not meaningfully more so than paying with a phone. Yes, it tracks workouts, but what am I actually doing with that data? I run the same route every time I do a 5K. I know when I am finished without a digital pat on the wrist.
Sleep tracking sounds useful until the watch locks itself while you are asleep and reminds you that it cannot even perform its most basic function consistently.
For me, it became an inescapable reality of diminishing returns. Increasing aggravation paired with decreasing usefulness.
Eventually, I ran out of reasons to justify keeping it. I was down to one. I drink tea, and the watch was a convenient way to set a steeping timer. That was it.
Surely there is a better use of wrist real estate than a device that mostly exists to tell me what I already know and interrupt me when I do not need it to.
Quitting Wasn’t Immediately Easy
Giving up the Apple Watch was not frictionless. It has been a few days now, and I still feel phantom vibrations on my wrist from time to time. I miss the passive health tracking. I miss the ease of setting a timer without pulling out my phone. I am exploring screenless alternatives like fitness rings that track health data without distraction.
The most unexpected thing, though, is the adjustment period when the noise stops. The familiar feeling of “now it’s too quiet.” Silence can feel abrupt and uncomfortable at first.
But that discomfort passes, and when it does, it is replaced with relief.
Returning to a Watch
I have always worn a watch. Since my father gave me my first one as a kid, having something on my wrist has been non-negotiable. Leaving the house meant keys, wallet, watch. Some habits never leave you.
Returning to a simple mechanical watch feels grounding. It does one job, and it does it well. Looking down to check the time now feels intentional instead of reactive. The watch no longer asks anything of me. In fact, when I glance at my wrist and see an analog face instead of a screen, I am oddly delighted by it.
Choosing What Deserves My Attention
I did not stop wearing an Apple Watch because I am rejecting modern life. I stopped because my attention is finite, and I get to decide how it is spent.
I do not need another screen.
I do not need another source of urgency.
I need tools that support my life without constantly demanding acknowledgment.
Walking away after completing the transaction and selling my watch, I was grinning.
I was grinning because I felt relieved that it was gone.
And I am not looking back.