Why I Took Off My Apple Watch and Picked Up My 1988 Citizen Instead
- Katie Donahue
- Jan 28
- 6 min read
Leaving notifications behind to reclaim presence, peace, and the sacred rhythm of time.
I happened to glance down at my calendar this morning and realized we are actually in the last week of January. The “feel” of the new year has worn off and is long gone. My planner pages of days passed are already smudged, scribbled and re-written.
And most of us are quietly realizing that time is not slowing down just because the calendar flipped.
Which makes this feel like the right moment to share something that began for me back on November 15, 2025…a decision that has continued to ripple through my body, my prayer, and my daily presence.
On that day, I did something I did not expect to do at this stage of life with something that I found so useful. But, I was ready.
I took off my Apple Watch, placed it on my bathroom counter, and quietly walked away.
I have put it back on exactly one time since then…not for fitness, not for data, not to answer a call, but to find my misplaced phone. When I followed the ping, I realized that it was not really lost. I would have found it had I looked a bit more. Why did I default to using my watch instead of my brain? Ugh!!
In the place of my clunky smartwatch, I clasped the small, elegant Citizen watch my grandparents gave me for my high school graduation in 1988. I was seventeen, full of dreams, and definitely not imagining that this little gold-and-silver watch would still tick faithfully thirty-eight years later.
But it does.It still works.
And in a surprising and grace-filled way, so do I, when I wear it.
When “Helpful” Becomes Harmful
For years, my Apple Watch promised optimization and efficiency, and I bought in completely.
The rings. The reminders. The buzzes. The heart-rate data. The constant feedback loop of doing enough or not quite there yet.
It all felt helpful…until it didn’t.
Until the vibrations felt like small tugs on my nervous system.Until I noticed how often my attention fractured.Until I realized I was being trained…subtly but persistently…to respond, check, monitor, and obey.
Just writing those words tightens my chest and make my heart rate go up. I don’t need my watch to tell me that. I feel it in my mind and my body.
What I did not fully appreciate at first were the health costs:
Constant micro-interruptions keep the brain in a state of alert, preventing deep focus and rest.
Frequent notifications trigger small stress responses, releasing cortisol and adrenaline throughout the day.
External data overrides internal cues, disconnecting me from hunger, fatigue, intuition, and embodied awareness.
Constant bluetooth energy zipping between my wrist and my phone.
My body was always hyper-aware, waiting and listening for the next buzz and my mind was never fully still.
I was tired…not just physically, but neurologically and spiritually.
The Day My Daughter Found My Old Watch
One afternoon last fall, I noticed my daughter wearing a familiar gold-and-silver watch on her wrist.
“My Citizen? Where did you find that?” I asked.
“In your jewelry box,” she said. “I thought it looked cute with my outfit. It doesn’t work, though. The battery is dead.”
I just stared at her.
Here she was, drawn to something simple, classic, analog and silent. Something I had nearly forgotten.
And something quiet but clear rose up in me:
Go back. Go back to what once grounded you.
The contrast was striking. Her wearing my simple, still, silent watch. Me wearing a chunky, buzzing, pinging, data-hungry wrist computer.
That day, when she set it back on the bathroom counter, I picked it up and wondered:
It’s old…Will it even work again?
The $10 Moment That Felt Like Reclaiming My Life
I took the watch to a local jeweler.
Ten dollars to replace the battery. Five minutes for the jeweler to make the switch.
But what happened there felt strangely holy.
There is no second hand on this watch, just the quiet, dignified movement of the minute hand when it is ready. After replacing the battery, as the jeweler helped other customers and my husband browsed, I stood there watching, waiting. The only way to tell if it was going to work was to wait.
Time felt suspended.
Please work, I thought. Please come back to life.
And then…it moved.
One small shift of the minute hand.
It felt like confirmation. Like reunion and a reclaiming of something I did not realize I had given away.
For $10, I walked out feeling as though I had taken back my attention, my peace, and my agency.
What Changed When the Buzzing Stopped
Switching from a smartwatch to an analog watch has been more than a lifestyle change. It has been a neurological reset and a spiritual reorientation.
Here is what I didn’t expect:
My attention span is healing. I stay with conversations. I read longer. I pray without bracing for interruption.
My nervous system is quieter. No background vigilance. No low-grade anticipation that something might buzz.
My left wrist and hand feel lighter, not just because the weight of the smartwatch is gone, but because the constant energy pull from my body is gone.
My choices feel more intentional. I check my phone when I decide to, not when my wrist commands it.
Without constant metrics, comparison loosens its grip.
My watch does not track steps, sleep, stress, calories, or productivity.It does not tell me whether I am behind or evaluate my worth.
It simply tells time and lets me live it.
What a relief.
Time as Gift, Not Taskmaster
As Lent approaches, this small choice feels deeply connected to the theme that has been stirring in my heart for months: the treasure of time.
Time is not something to conquer or optimize. It is something to receive and live.
Trusting God in the present moment means resisting the urge to constantly measure ourselves against data and outcomes. It means believing that this moment, untracked, unoptimized, unmonitored, is enough.
Psalm 90:12 says:
“Teach us to count our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart.”
Wisdom does not grow in constant stimulation.It grows in awareness, attention, peace and presence.
St. Thomas Aquinas (whose feast is today) echoes this same truth when he reminds us that the interior life must come before visible action:
“Better to illuminate than merely to shine, to deliver to others contemplated truths than merely to contemplate”. ~St. Thomas Aquinas
In other words, before we measure, perform, track, or optimize, we are meant to receive. To attend. To allow wisdom to form in the quiet soil of presence.
This is where the wisdom of Jacques Philippe feels like a natural companion to Aquinas. Philippe repeatedly invites us to return to the present moment, not as a productivity strategy, but as an act of trust:
“Let us live each moment to the full, not worrying about whether time is going quickly or slowly, but welcoming everything given us moment by moment.”~ Jacques Philippe
Together, Aquinas and Philippe point to the same gentle truth: a life well-lived is not one that shines the brightest or does the most, but one that is rooted in attentive presence, where God is always found.
A Quiet Wrist, A Deep Breath, A Fuller Life
There is something deeply human, and maybe even holy, about wearing an analog watch.
It keeps time the way we always have: hour by hour, moment by moment.It aligns us with meals, prayer, rest, breath, and daylight rather than dopamine and demand.
It slows me down without asking permission.
Every time I glance at that small gold face from 1988, I am reminded:
Time is a gift.
Presence is a choice and a practice.
Peace is possible.
And so, as this watch continues faithfully into its fourth decade, I carry deep gratitude for the two people who first placed it on my wrist.
Gram Neldie and Grandpa Bob…thank you for a timeless gift whose meaning has only grown with the years.
At the end of January, as we inch closer to Lent, this feels like an invitation worth considering:
What might happen if we loosen our grip on being monitored and learn again how to simply be present?
Life lived, not measured.
Time received, not rushed.
As Lent approaches, I will be offering daily Lenten reflections on the treasure of time, guided by Jacques Philippe’s Trusting God in the Present Moment…a quiet, steady invitation to live each day with greater trust, attention, and peace.
Your Sister in Christ,
Katie
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