9 Easy Tips To End Doom Scrolling On Your Phone, And Start Living

 

Doom scrolling is the modern equivalent of opening the fridge every five minutes, except instead of leftover biryani, you find anxiety, comparison, and a headline that makes you question humanity. If you’ve ever said, “Just five minutes,” and then looked up to find that democracy has changed twice, these tactics are for you.

 

Create a phone curfew. Pick a time — say, 10 p.m. — and physically place your phone across the room. Not next to your pillow nor under it like a technological security blanket. Across the room. Better yet, charge it outside the bedroom. If you need an alarm clock, buy one!

 

If you simply delete apps and stare at a wall, you will redownload everything by Thursday.

Doom scrolling usually fills a gap: boredom, loneliness, procrastination, or avoidance of a mildly terrifying email. So replace it:

Waiting in line? Carry a pocketbook.

Sitting alone at a café? People-watch like a novelist.

Avoiding work? Set a 10-minute timer and do the smallest possible task.

Your brain wants stimulation. Give it something better than a comment war between strangers.

 

Switch your display to greyscale. Suddenly, Instagram looks like a 2003 government website. Remove widgets that show breaking news. You do not need a live ticker reminding you that the world is chaotic while you are trying to eat breakfast. If you’re feeling bold, log out of social media after every use. The extra step of typing your password is sometimes enough to make you think, “Actually, no.”

 

Decide: “I will scroll from 7:30 pm to 7:50 pm.” Set a timer. When it rings, close the app. By containing the scroll, you stop it from leaking into every spare second of your life. Doom scrolling thrives in the in-between moments.

 

Declare certain places sacred: The dining table, the bathroom. Certain times like the first 30 minutes after you wake up, and the last 30 minutes before sleep. Your brain should not wake up to 47 notifications and a video of someone organizing their spice rack better than you. Let your first thought be your own. Not an algorithm’s.

 

Go for a walk without headphones. Cook something complicated. Write in a notebook. Call a friend and talk about something other than what you both saw online. Pretend you are the protagonist in an indie film. Main characters do not lie horizontally, bathed in blue light, watching strangers argue. They sip on chai. They stare thoughtfully out of windows.

 

If your feed makes you anxious, unfollow. You do not owe your attention to:

Influencers who make you feel inadequate.

News accounts that post panic every hour.

People you met once in 2013.

Follow accounts that educate, inspire, or genuinely make you laugh. Social media should not feel like a daily anxiety subscription.

 

This might be the hardest one. When you don’t instantly reach for your phone, your mind wanders. Ideas appear. Thoughts connect. You remember things you care about. Creativity hates constant interruption. If you have goals: writing a book, starting something meaningful, building new habits, you need empty space. Doom scrolling fills every crack with noise. Silence is where your real ideas live.

 

Pick one day. Tell people you’ll be offline unless it’s urgent. Delete social apps temporarily. Turn off news alerts. Notice what happens. The first few hours will feel twitchy. Then you’ll breathe differently. Time will stretch. You might read or clean something you’ve been ignoring.

 

You don’t have to delete everything, move to a forest, and start journaling. Just reduce the unconscious scrolling. Create boundaries. Close one app today before it closes over your entire evening.