Breaking Free: Our Journey Without Screens

When It All Began

Some seasons of motherhood nearly undo you. For me, it was the endless cycle of my son’s screen obsession—the constant pleading for TV, the battles, the exhaustion, the wondering if this would always be our life.

“Can I watch TV?” Those four words were the soundtrack of our days for years. From the moment my son’s eyes opened in the morning until he went to bed at night, the question never stopped.

Four years ago, when Jack was three, he developed an obsession with watching television that we didn’t initially see as a problem. He spent a lot of time in the car, traveling back and forth to preschool, and was rightfully tired from school and long car rides; thus, TV became something he looked forward to after school and on days he was home. 

It was during this time that we were new to his diagnosis and just getting acquainted with William’s Syndrome and what that looked like for him. Additionally, I was pregnant with Claire and navigating numerous changes within our family, all while not feeling my best and being more tired than usual. 

You’ve likely heard me talk about this before–Jack really struggled with independent and imaginative play when he was a toddler and little boy. He instead preferred anything with bright lights and lots of noise — like the TV. 

As Jack grew, his play abilities continued to lag behind, and while he had lots of toys, he mostly preferred to destroy them by taking them apart with screwdrivers. It was a tough season of not knowing how to interest Jack in toys or play–either by himself or with others–and we all felt the sting of it. 

I struggled to find him activities to do while at home that weren’t destructive, and his older brother felt the pain and heartache of having a younger brother who couldn’t or often just wouldn’t play with him the way he wished he could. 

The TV became a constant source of entertainment for Jack, and no matter how many boundaries we put around it, it was all he thought of or wanted to do. My mornings often started with Jack, his face in mine as I woke up to him asking me, “Can I watch TV?”

My days were filled with this repeated question, and I was typically burned out by it well before 10 am on any day he was home with me. His constant and obsessive need for TV became an addiction that we all felt trapped in. He wouldn’t do anything but ask for TV or watch TV. Attempts to get him to play ended in disappointment. He had all the toys he seemed to be interested in – dinosaurs, Legos, K’nex, puzzles, trucks, tractors, Transformers, as well as outside toys like the trampoline, swing set, basketballs, and a basketball hoop. We encouraged, prodded, and demanded that he do anything else but he couldn’t quit his addiction, and he dismissed all the other options. He’d play for a few minutes and then look up at me and ask the same question I’d heard a thousand times already that day, “Can I watch TV?”

Feeling Trapped

I often wondered if this would always be my life. Will I be dealing with this when he’s 25? I asked with desperation. I felt trapped. His obsession had stolen the joy of being at home with my children, and I rarely looked forward to any school vacation or long weekend as I knew I’d be irritable and teetering into mom-rage territory by the end of the first day. 

Of course, I love my children and am grateful to be with them as much as I am, but Jack’s TV addiction slithered its way into all parts of my life as a mom, sucking the joy from them. He didn’t just ask for TV; he relentlessly requested it every two minutes, all day long, unless he was watching it, of course. 

I prayed for a way through, for him to grow out of it, and for more peace, strength, and whatever God could give me to get through what had become an incredibly difficult season for us all, but especially for me. 

I felt completely drained by him, yet I was full of love for him. 

My husband suggested that we take the TV away, and we did try that for a while, but it didn’t help. The questions kept coming, and he begged us to bring the TV back, which we did. 

My husband’s convictions around the TV were not my own–I saw the TV as a way of escape, if only for a while. While the TV was on, I wasn’t asked a hundred times in an hour if anyone would watch it. If the TV were one, I could drink my coffee in silence, fold laundry uninterrupted, cook dinner, clean a bathroom, or get any of the unending list of household tasks I do every day in my role as a stay-at-home mom. 

Taking the TV away felt like taking away the little bit of freedom I thought it gave me.

The Turning Point

I carried this conviction with me until one day I couldn’t take it anymore. The TV had made me ugly – an angry, bitter, and irritable mom - and I felt myself drowning in it all. How unfair, challenging, and frustrating it all felt — I could no longer bear the weight of it all. Even after I had placed boundaries and rules around TV and implemented changes in our home to create a healthier relationship with it, none of it really worked. 

And so, it was time for the TV to go. 

The TV was packed away and stored out of sight that day – completely out of the house. The next day, I rearranged the family room so that it looked different – a fresh start without a TV at the center of our lives. 

Life Without Screens

And to my astonishment, everything changed. For the good. For the best. 

Without TV, Jack’s brain seemed set free to play, to imagine, to think, and to mature. 

A week after we took the TV away for good, I got up early one morning, thinking I was up before the kids, only to find Jack quietly looking at a book on the floor of the family room. A new routine began – instead of waking me up early in the morning for TV, he could get up and check to see if I was awake, then quietly find something to do until I got up later. He’d look at books, build with his Legos, or play with his dinosaurs in his room, even with the door shut, because some of his dinosaurs made noise. I’ve been amazed at how different he has become in a short period of time. He is considerate, thoughtful, helpful, and actively engages in both independent and imaginative play – two things I thought were beyond his abilities. 

Most wonderfully, I feel like I have my boy back. I didn’t realize how poorly the TV affected him until it left his system. He’s such a joy to be around, which he always has been to many people, and from the outside, things probably haven’t seemed that bad. But at home, it was a different story. 

Thankfully, things have changed, and we are living on the other side of that really hard season, one I thought might never end–but it did. 

I share this because I know life as a mom or dad is full of love and joy, but it can also coexist with difficulty, stress, and even grief. I’ve lived this shared existence of mixing joy and difficulty as a special needs mom for many years.

Most importantly, I share this because what I thought was helping him, and even helping me, was in fact hurting us all. Jack’s screen addiction began innocently enough, but it only trapped him and stunted his ability for maturity and growth. Since taking the TV–and all other screens–away, he has truly blossomed in a way I didn’t realize he was capable of. 

The biggest blessing of all are the healed relationships within our home. We took screens away in July, and since then, I’ve seen our kids playing together better than they ever have before. They’ve fought less (they still fight, but not as much as they used to); their imaginations have soared. They can truly play all day – together and by themselves. If they need a break from playtime, they will find books or puzzles, or color, or listen to music on a speaker I keep in the kitchen. 

And as for me, I feel true freedom. Not the kind of freedom I used to get from sneaking away to another part of the house while my kids watched TV, but from being set free from the chains and captivity I felt while the TV was in our home. And my relationship with Jack? It’s always been a great gift to be his mom, and he has always had a close relationship with me. Now, we both feel more at peace with one another. I know he isn’t going to spend his entire day begging for TV, and he knows I’m not going to be angry or irritated with him over it. The freedom I feel now overflows with peace and joy. I find myself feeling content with all of my days and even looking forward to weekends and school vacations with my kids. Gone is the anxiety and fear it used to bring me. 

The walls don’t feel like they are closing in on me anymore. Instead, I feel like the roof of our home has opened and the most beautiful, soul-filling light pours in. 

True Freedom

I’m so proud of Jack and how far he has come. I’ve often spoken of the joy he brings to our lives, and while that’s always been true, I’ve felt as if I’ve been hiding a secret–that at home it’s also really hard. Well, that secret doesn’t exist anymore. 

And the truth? He is thriving—at home, in the classroom, and everywhere we go. He is fully engaged, no longer bound by the chains of endless screen time. He is truly free, and with that freedom has come a joy that radiates from him.

His smile shines with authenticity, and the sparkle in his eye isn’t simply a trait of Williams Syndrome or the mark of a naturally cheerful child. It’s deeper than that. It’s the unmistakable light of a boy who is genuinely free.