My phone recently broke in a very particular and life-changing way. Every three minutes on the dot, the screen goes pitch black, the phone shuts down, and then immediately turns back on again as if nothing ever happened. While this doesn’t affect any core functionality, like sending a text or placing a bulk order of fresh churros — the most essential things you can accomplish with a smartphone in under three minutes — it did provide some much-needed relief from the endless doomscrolling experience that’s come to define our online lives.
Doomscrolling, a term that gained traction during COVID lockdowns, feels a lot like Alice’s frenzied free fall into Wonderland (see above). That distressing, locked-in feeling you get when you’re reading upsetting news and social media content is a daily experience for some of us, especially when hard-won societal progress is systematically undone before our very eyes.
The hardest part about doomscrolling is that you can’t seem to bring yourself to stop. You may feel informed, but the sense of control and connection you’re craving never comes. Lucky for you, I’ve recently become an expert in finding things to do instead of doomscrolling! So if you’re ready to stop scrolling and start living again, here are five simple starting points:
1. Observe a living thing
When living by this administration’s news cycle isn’t an option, you begin to tune into the real, unstoppable cycles happening around us. Your cat’s high-conflict morning routine. The cicadas’ evening choral practice. The slow, soft greening of the skyline as trees reawaken and turn towards the sun. Observing other living beings going about their business is scientifically proven to lower our heart rates and improve our sense of well being. But most importantly, it’s a humbling reminder that we are creatures ourselves. Simple mammals who need water, hugs, and sunlight — not status updates.
2. Write a letter
It turns out that your thumbs get a little restless when your phone goes dark. A healthy substitute for me is writing letters. To an old friend, to my local representative, to my future self. As a medium, letters are particularly suited to expressing yourself exactly as you intend — and demonstrating care for your audience. Whether it’s a public letter on the injustice of the U.S. immigration system, or a simple retelling of your day to someone who lives thousands of miles away, letters have a way of connecting us more intimately than a text or tweet ever could.
3. Fix something
You might not be able to single-handedly dismantle every new harebrained executive order, but there are things you can fix. Fix that squeaky hinge. Mend those shorts with the rip in the crotch. Find something within your locus of control, and throw your weight behind it for a few thrilling minutes. There’s something deeply reassuring and motivating about taking small actions and actually experiencing the fruits of your labor. Especially when you’re living under an administration that exists in the false binary of powerful and powerless. Fixing something — even if it’s something only you can see — chips away at the lie that we are helpless bystanders.
4. Read a children’s book
Waiting in line used to be an excuse for me to check my phone and get in a quick scroll. Now, whether it’s the dentist office or the DMV, I find myself engrossed in a classically thrilling genre of print media: worn out waiting room children’s books. It turns out that reading an extra-large font, illustration-heavy children’s story is more engrossing and educational than tapping through hundreds of Instagram stories could ever be!
Something I’ve come to love and appreciate about this genre are the villains. The narrow-minded schoolyard bully is a familiar, worn out character. The greasy mob boss with a team of thugs by his side is nothing new. Better still, the handbook for dealing with these tired villains is outlined pretty clearly in all of our children’s books and history textbooks. Build a coalition fueled by love and justice, and the thugs don’t stand a chance.
5. Breathe
Sure, doomscrolling robs us of a myriad of simple pleasures and actions. But the most egregious, insidious connection it hijacks is our connection to our own bodies and breath. This isn’t my armchair expertise talking — screen time has been shown to cause shallow breathing. That classic, hunched position we get when we’re doomscrolling? It actually prevents deep belly breaths and leads to shallow chest breathing, which sends stress signals to the brain. On the other hand, slow breathing lowers our stress levels, increases focus, regulates our emotions and even helps us make better decisions. In other words, all the things we need to fight the good, long fight against fascism are just one long, deep breath away.
As you can imagine, losing my phone access has profoundly altered my habits. For one, I have to study a map closely and memorize the directions before leaving my home. So analog! But on a personal, artistic level, this magical glitch has been a transformative portal. The world, which has felt hopeless and infuriating lately, feels more like an oyster of simple actions and mundane pleasures. Experiences that fuel my creativity, quiet my self doubt, and expand my frame of resistance. Experiences that could be yours, too, if you accidentally drop your phone into a puddle!*
*Do not recommend $$$ :-(
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