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I figured I might have a problem when I started taking my BlackBerry into the bathroom with me. And I admit it: I have been known to do furtive, middle-of-the-night checks, or glance at the thing in between pushing the kids on the swing. But is it really so bad, while on honeymoon in Italy, to check messages daily?

Okay, so I have issues.

But I'm not alone. According to a recent survey by cruise planning site Tripharbour.ca, 21 per cent of working Canadians are always wired to the workplace – even on vacation. Which is why some corporations are imposing e-mail-free days and banning BlackBerry communication on holidays.

Still, some of us need a little help getting away from our electronics. Or at least powering them down for a night or two. An e-tox, if you will.

And that's where the travel industry comes in. While connectivity remains a priority for many hotels – especially those catering to business travellers – a number of resorts are now offering PDA- and cellphone-free getaways.

Alton Towers Resort, for example, a theme park in Staffordshire, England, ran a pilot PDA-free zone this spring. The goal: To encourage parents to pay more attention to their children and less attention to their hand-held devices. The method: “PDA police” on site pointing parents to drop-off areas, where they could safely leave electronics for the day.

At the Arawak Beach Inn in Anguilla, meanwhile, leaving behind electronics is not a choice. The inn's Isolation Vacation bans visitors from all technology – removing televisions and phones from their rooms, and taking away laptops and personal digital assistants upon arrival. Want to use the office computer? They won't let you.

Then there's the Kona Village Resort in Hawaii. According to sales manager Roger MacDonald, “absolute icons of the technology world” check into its thatched huts – which have no televisions, telephones, Internet access or even radios. “[The guests] just focus on being a human being,” he says.

Likewise, there are no phones or TVs in the rooms at the Little Palm Island Resort & Spa in the Florida keys. And the use of a cellphone or BlackBerry in public areas is strictly forbidden (there are signs). The hotel can also take devices from guests upon request – often, they note, from guests who don't want to get in trouble with their spouses.

All of which appealed to Gypsy Bachiller. The 35-year-old mother of three says she can't remember the last time she took a holiday with no electronics involved. “My husband spends the whole time checking [his BlackBerry]. I'm on the phone. It's constant,” she says. So she and her family drove three hours from Miami to the resort and put their BlackBerry in the designated drop box. “It felt like we completely disconnected.”

Canadians can also disconnect closer to home. This summer, the Fairmont is offering an Electronic Rehab Getaway at four properties. Each offers a slightly different take on getting away from it all: In Banff, guests get a book on meditation and rejuvenation; at Lake Louise and Jasper, guided hikes are included in the package.

And at Fairmont Chateau Whistler? Living in Vancouver, their program was too close to resist a trial run. So I started small and signed up for a single night away from my BlackBerry.

In the week leading up to the adventure, the reporter in me started to get a little panicky. What if a big story broke and I couldn't be reached? What if a copy editor had a pressing fact-checking question?

Nonetheless, I forged ahead. Okay, I did take my BlackBerry with me. I couldn't fathom a two-hour drive without a cellphone – in case of emergency, of course. My plan, though, was to turn it off on arrival.

No need. The hotel has us techno-addicts figured out. We can't be trusted.

Upon check-in, I was forced to give up my BlackBerry and sign a waiver authorizing the hotel to hold my electronic belongings in the hotel safe. This may sound hokey, but it was a moment tinged with shame. I was there because I have a problem. It's so official, I had o sign something.

That feeling passed quickly, however, since rehab included a $100 credit toward the spa, golf, or activities such as zip-trekking, kayaking, trail riding and fishing. I picked the spa. Give me a massage and I'll show you someone who has detached from the office.

(Interestingly, while some spas are offering treatments for “BlackBerry thumb,” many are moving toward technology instead of away from it. Craig Oliver, president of Spas of America, predicts that the next big trend will be media rooms. “Even the Alamo fell,” he says.)

But back to Whistler, where I felt the BlackBerry-free effects immediately. After a drive up that involved a $253 speeding ticket and then a hotel parking fee of $36, I was ready to call somebody, anybody, to share my distress. But without a cellphone, all I could do was suck it up.

And this, I discovered, was good for the soul. Without the ability to instantly spread my misery, I somehow felt less miserable.

Walking through Whistler Village, there was the odd sensation of knowing that I was completely unreachable. And, just as I was about to head into an ice cream shop, there it was: a phantom vibration. I got as far as reaching into my bag before realizing that the BlackBerry wasn't there. Withdrawal.

Things got easier. I felt liberated at the pool with only my reading material and some sunscreen. Sipping on my cucumber water, there was no need to watch out for that blinking red light. During a swim, I did not have to keep an eye on my precious device. It was safely tucked away, I kept reminding myself, in the hotel's safety deposit box.

By nighttime – post-swim, post-stroll, post-massage – I had all but forgotten to feel antsy. Maybe it was the terry cloth robe I had been given, the 12,000-thread-count sheets or the overpriced (but quite excellent) room service nachos, but I was not jonesing for the BlackBerry. Really.

The morning was a little more difficult. Like the tobacco addict who needs that first cigarette, I generally check my messages when I get up. Yes, even on Sundays. And on this Sunday, there were e-mails I needed to write – a screening ticket to obtain, a birthday message to send.

But I had promised myself that I would remain BlackBerry-free for 24 hours. This was not about the waiver. This was about personal resolve and determination.

I headed for Lost Lake to check out the views. It was actually working, I thought, when I heard the familiar phrase: “Hey, it's me.” These are words I know well, words I've recited many times. Probably in similar circumstances. But this cellphone call in the middle of gorgeous nature somehow felt so wrong. Maybe I was making some progress.

I picked up my BlackBerry exactly 25 hours and 13 minutes after handing it over to the hotel authorities. There were 46 new messages.

Within three minutes, I had e-mailed my boss, rescheduled an interview and contacted my husband. I was reconnected. I also figured I was doomed – my break from technology wiped out by frantic e-mailing.

Or maybe not. In a stunning development the following weekend, I forgot my BlackBerry twice. In both cases, I realized I'd left the device behind, had a brief moment of panic, carried on – and felt just fine.

Marsha Lederman is The Globe and Mail's Western arts correspondent. She lives in Vancouver.