When I set off on my ten-day trip around the Scottish Highlands at the beginning of the month, I thought I’d work on my dissertation, post on social media, and scroll around to find out the latest industry news. But as the green hills around Edinburgh turned into the rough, misty mountains of the Highlands and my phone service dropped bar by bar, I realized that wouldn’t be possible.

At first, I felt anxiety at the thought of being without WiFi and cell phone service. I was traveling in a group of five, so safety wasn’t really an issue. We had our transportation from place to place completely mapped out, and printed versions or screenshots of our various bus and train tickets. My email was set to “out of office.” Strictly speaking, I wouldn’t need my phone, but like most people in their mid-twenties, I see mine as a symbol of safety, security, and connection.

To my surprise, I loved being off the grid. I felt less anxious and more present, more aware of what I was doing in that particular moment. Instead, of job-hunting or studying, as I’ve done nearly non-stop for the last ten months, I took a breath and looked up from my screen. I listened to music and watched the glassy lakes and endless purple rhododendron bushes fly past the train window. My mind emptied for the first time in what felt like forever. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about literature reviews or cover letters or whatever thing JK Rowling tweeted recently. I returned yesterday with a quiet and refreshed mind.

I’m the last person who’s going to tell you to spend more time away from screens in your daily life. In 2021, there’s simply no way to escape screens on a regular basis. But when we can, when we have the opportunity to disconnect from the wider world of the internet and engage with our own smaller one, that gives us an opportunity to stop being a student or a job-seeker or anything else we are. It gives us the opportunity to exist as just ourselves.