The Infinite Scroll Pit
A person scrolling their phone while slowly sinking into a pit, each scroll pulling them deeper while they tell themselves 'just one more minute.'
Numbing disguised as staying informed.
Doom scrolling is the compulsive habit of endlessly scrolling through negative news, social media, or distressing content -- long past the point of being informed and deep into the territory of being emotionally hijacked. It feels productive. It feels responsible. After all, you are just staying up to date, right? But the truth is that doom scrolling is often a sophisticated form of emotional numbing. When your own life contains feelings you do not want to face -- anxiety, loneliness, grief, boredom, existential dread -- flooding your nervous system with external stimulation becomes a way to avoid the internal experience. Researchers have found that doom scrolling activates the same dopamine-seeking loops as other compulsive behaviors. Your brain keeps searching for the next piece of information that will resolve the uncertainty, but that resolution never comes -- so you keep scrolling. Meanwhile, your cortisol levels rise, your sleep deteriorates, and you become increasingly disconnected from your own emotional state. Psychologist Adam Alter, who studies behavioral addiction, describes this kind of digital consumption as a 'stopping cue' problem -- unlike a TV episode or a book chapter, a social media feed has no natural endpoint, making it almost impossible to self-regulate once you have started. The way out is not about willpower or screen time limits alone. It is about asking the harder question: what feeling were you trying not to feel when you picked up your phone?
The scroll ends when you name the feeling you were trying to outrun before you picked up the phone.
A stick figure reaching for their phone, then pausing mid-grab, noticing a feeling in their chest they were about to bury
The stick figure setting the phone face-down and sitting with the uncomfortable feeling, hands on knees, face uneasy but present
The stick figure stepping outside for a short walk, looking at the sky, letting the restlessness exist without fixing it
The stick figure sitting calmly, phone nearby but untouched, the restlessness softer now, a small smile of relief