reducing doom-scrolling without rigid rules…
Most of us have found ourselves there: phone in hand, scrolling without thinking, only to look up and realise that half an hour, or an entire evening, has disappeared. Often it’s not just the lost time that weighs on us, but how we feel afterwards: restless, overstimulated, negative about ourselves, our lives or the state of the world, and strangely disconnected.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Our phones are deliberately designed to capture and hold attention, so if you find it hard to put yours down, it’s important to remember that it’s not a personal failing. As Johan Hari writes in Stolen Focus:
“Your attention didn’t collapse. It was stolen.”
That means every time you put the phone down, it’s not about discipline but it can be both an act of kindness to yourself and a little defiance against systems designed to keep you scrolling.
why we scroll
Scrolling often offers micro-hits of distraction, connection, or comfort. It can soothe boredom, fill gaps, or even numb uncomfortable feelings. Naming what our scrolling is doing for us is an important first step. Once we know the role it plays, we can begin to experiment with meeting those same needs in other ways.
slowing the pace
Rather than trying to cut scrolling out completely, consider slowing it down. For example:
Pause before you open: Take a breath and ask, what do I want from my phone right now?
Introduce a buffer: Place your phone in another room while you make tea, stretch, read, or step outside for a few minutes.
Tiny time-boxes: Set a boundary like “I’ll check Instagram while my coffee brews” instead of leaving it open-ended.
Each pause is a double win: a moment of curiosity (what do I actually need right now?) and a reclaiming of small amounts of presence from the endless pull of the feed.
re-finding presence
The antidote to endless scrolling doesn’t have to be rigid digital detoxes. It can be increasing presence, bit by bit. The kind of presence that reminds you you’re here, in your body, in your day. You might notice it by:
Looking around the room and naming three things you can see.
Putting both feet on the ground and taking one slow breath.
Choosing to do one thing (eat, walk, talk to someone) without your phone nearby.
Presence doesn’t have to be lofty. It can be a moment of grounding, again and again – a way of reminding yourself that your attention is still yours to claim.
a kinder, defiant approach
If you catch yourself doom-scrolling, try not to add a layer of self-criticism. Remember: these devices were built to hook your attention. You didn’t “fail” – you were responding exactly as designed.
So when you do step away, however briefly, see it for what it is: a small, radical act and a big win. A way of saying to yourself, I matter more than my feed. And, once again, become curious about how you feel afterwards.
Perhaps that’s the heart of this work: curiosity about what we really need in the moment, paired with the courage to choose presence – again and again.