Doomed To Scroll?

Sometimes it starts with a slight dullness in the mind. A flash of boredom. Space in need of filling. Other times it's more aggressive, a tug on my attention from a notification that I thought I had disabled or a worry about work or a musing about the markets or a question about crypto just the simple urge to reflexively look at my phone. Whatever the cause, once I unlock the screen it often seems as though I am doomed to scroll. 

For me, there is no more defeating behavior than doomscrolling. I fancy myself to be of strong mind (among other virtues). I meditate, for God’s sake! Yet the moment I touch that thin, shiny box my willpower wilts. I turn into a junkie; a thinly-veiled primate primed to leak dopamine from my ears as I cycle through the latest headlines, stock prices, fish pics (anglers know), or whatever other quick fixes I come across.

Doomscrolling both amazes and perplexes me. I'm amazed that such a simple act, requiring little dexterity of the fingers or mind, can cripple me so completely as I lay stuck on a couch or in bed for longer than I care to admit. And I’m perplexed by the fact that this form of passing time simultaneously gives and takes such vast amounts of energy. Where else can one find the feeling of restful despair? Of exhilarating exhaustion?

Most of us recognize the effects of doomscrolling: soreness of the thumbs and soul, deterioration of eyesight and self-esteem, headaches, irritability, poor sleep, and tunnel vision (in all the ways). Even with this knowledge, we continue to indulge ourselves. We spend our free moments refreshing our browsers instead of our minds. Swiping, flicking, tapping away specs of time that will never come back (oftentimes in the company of friends and loved ones). It usually feels like we’re doing something more; like we’re learning or unwinding or creating or engaging in something positive. That’s doomscrolling’s greatest trick.

The line between productivity and doomscrolling is among the most blurred in existence. We think we’re walking on one side of it until we find ourselves lost in the woods miles away. Sometimes we get so lost we don’t even realize we’re lost! We feel like we’re on vacation, but we’re always tired and something isn’t quite right and we’re not sure why.

Over the past 6 months I’ve been looking for ways to break free of this habit. I haven’t nailed it. Just the other night I sat on my couch for at least an hour (ok, fine. Two.) cycling between Twitter/X, Instagram, news, and crypto prices. I felt like well-rested shit. But semi-frequent relapses aside, I have found a number of things to help me take more control of my phone usage. Nothing groundbreaking—they are mostly obvious. But hopefully by sharing my experience with them may help you find your own tools to manage this ever-growing addiction we all struggle with.

The first step I ever took to break free from my phone was to simply turn off notifications on nearly every app. It started when I found myself checking Slack notifications at a concert a few years back. In that moment, I went on a de-notification spree and never looked back. This one easy change returned quite a bit of attention span to my already struggling brain. I found meaningful respite from the constant buzzing in my pocket or popups on my screen. I even did this for important work apps that I previously convinced myself needed to be on all the time. I told my team members to do the same. Any time I install a new app, I make sure not to allow it to send me notifications.

Around that time I also toyed with changing my phone from color to grayscale. I saw this tip suggested in an article as a way to reduce the dopamine flow that comes from phone interaction. I tried it for a short while but found it to be a bit too much, but I’m sharing it as something worth exploring (especially if you don’t really watch much video content on your phone).

At some point over the past summer I started sleeping without my phone in my bedroom. Instead, I left it in my office downstairs. I tried to put it in there sometime between 8:30-9:30 p.m.. At first I worried about things I might miss: text messages, WhatsApp threads, important tweets, etc. but I soon recognized it as the kind of worry meant to keep us from making progress in life. (The irrational kind). When I changed this habit, my life improved immediately. I went to bed earlier, spent more time with my kids at night, read more, and got out of bed earlier. I still watched TV in bed when I needed to unwind, but the risks of getting sucked into any kind of media loop were far less with TV than with a phone.

About a month ago I started using a screen time management app called Jomo on iOS. (If you don’t have iOS you can use Google Family Link or check the Android app store for similar apps.) This app allows me to schedule downtimes and usage limits for specific app groups in a more flexible and reliable way than the native iOS Screen Time settings. For example, I can create multiple types of downtime for different app groups throughout the week (Bed time, focus time, work time, etc) as well as limit usage on all of my social media apps to a set limit per day. The app has quite a bit of flexibility and can be customized heavily.

Unfortunately, using the app schedules gave me an excuse to bring my phone back to my room at night, which feels like a step back. I need to figure out the right evening routine between the two (which likely involves me going back to leaving my phone in my office).

That’s the thing about managing our minds. It never is a straight path. It’s always a two steps forward, one step back (or one step forward, two step back) kinda thing. But to me, the real impact comes from making an effort–any effort–at all. Like with all struggles, perfection is an illusion. The real loss comes when you submit and stop trying.

Unfortunately, mobile devices are now engrained in every aspect of our lives (and our kids' lives). We often take for granted just how much they have changed our lives (and minds). We convince ourselves that this is just the way the world is now, that it is normal and there’s nothing we can do about it. This isn’t true. We are not doomed to scroll for the rest of our lives. We can do something about it and most of us will find that when we do, or at least try to, areas of our lives will suddenly improve in ways we didn’t expect—even when we stumble and revert to old habits. It’s starting the journey that opens the doorway. Find one small thing and start there.