Doomscrolling

It starts innocently enough. You pick up your phone during a short break, vowing to just take a look over at the headlines. And before you realize it, an hour is gone. Your heart is racing as you read one scary report after another political turmoil, environmental disasters, economic collapse, and another viral scandal. Your fingers keep clicking, even though your chest tightens. You know you have to stop, but something inside you compels, just one more article. I have to know what's happening. This is doomscrolling, the newest crutch of unsettling news, and it is secretly siphoning the joy out of millions of lives.

Let's consider the case of Sarah, a 24-year-old graphic designer. She never thought of herself as an addict until COVID. At home, stuck there, her phone was her portal to the outside world. At first, she was following COVID updates closely to stay safe. But soon, she was waking up at 3 a.m., getting caught up in conspiracy theories, vaccine wars, and death totals. "I'd tell myself I was being responsible by being up to date," she admits." But in reality, I was just fueling my anxiety. I'd scroll till my hands would shake, then lie awake, worst-case-scenarioing." Sarah's experience is not unique. A 2023 study discovered that 72% of Millennials and Gen Z compulsively scroll through negative news even after knowing how it impacts their mental wellbeing.

Why are we doing this to ourselves? Part of it is biology. Brains are wired to prioritize threats a survival mechanism from the times when encountering danger meant not becoming someone's lunch. Now, that same instinct holds us captive to doomscrolling. Every click on a crisis headline trains algorithms to deliver more. Social media sites, designed to maximize clicks, play on it. They reward outrage, fear, and conflict because those feelings keep us staring at screens. As journalist Charlie Warzel says, "Doomscrolling is the digital equivalent of rubbernecking a car crash. We know it's bad for us, but we can't look away."

The consequences are real. Research links excessive doomscrolling to higher levels of cortisol (the stress hormone), sleep disorders, and even weakened immune systems. Therapist Dr. Lisa Lin refers to it as "secondhand trauma on a loop." One of her clients, a college student named Jake, devoted hours each night to dissecting war footage and political upheaval. "He came in with panic attacks," she recalls. "His nervous system was in fight-or-flight mode not because he was in danger, but because his brain believed he was."

It takes work to break the cycle, but it can be done. Begin by paying attention to the physical cues: tight jaw, rapid breathing, or that knot in your belly. They are signals to stop. Use the "5-4-3-2-1" grounding exercise: Identify 5 things you see, 4 things you touch, 3 things you hear, 2 things you smell, and 1 thing you taste. It re-engages your brain's flight mode. Sarah, the designer, replaced her late-night scrolling with a Kindle. "I'd read fiction until my eyes were heavy. It gave my brain something to concentrate on besides catastrophe."

Trick number two? Make news "appointments." Read news only in the morning and evening no exceptions. Block news sites using apps such as Freedom or Screen Time after your times up. And ruthlessly curate your feed. Mute words such as "crisis," "disaster," or "alert." Unfollow those posting only bad news. Follow those who balance bad news with solutions or good news.

There's also a deeper cultural transformation required. We've confused information with immersion. But as writer Rebecca Solnit says, "Hope is not the denial of reality. It's the belief that reality can be changed." To remain active doesn't mean to be immersed in hopelessness. Volunteer, give, or get involved in community activism actions that fight hopelessness.

Sarah's turning point occurred during a black-out. Dead phone battery, she sat on the porch, watching the birds. "For the first time in months, I felt at peace," she says. "I knew the world wasn't ending I'd just been fooled into thinking it was." She continues to watch the news, but now she asks herself: Does this make me live better or just fear more? Most days, she closes the app and goes out. The sky, she's discovered, is still there. And so is she. Doomscrolling plays on our best selves to know, to care. But our knowledge shouldn't cost us our peace. The next time your thumb hesitates over another gloomy headline, ask: Is this doing me any good? Then put down the phone. Breathe. The world will keep on turning, and you'll be better equipped to meet it not from a place of fear, but presence.