I’m going to be honest — I think it’s very hard for most regular people to keep it together this year, even the ones rushing to call themselves “lucky” and to explain that they are much better off than many others, lest somebody think they are being overly dramatic about *gestures at the roaring dumpster fire engulfing us all*.
I think fear and hate are as contagious as any virus. I think any community is susceptible to them — some more so, some less so, but we all have chinks in our moral armor.
What should we do about it? Well, for one thing, I really need you all to stop doomscrolling.
Or, at the very least, stop thinking that you are required to doomscroll.
NPR has a good rundown on what doomscrolling means, but the term itself is pretty self-explanatory. Doomscrolling involves compulsively consuming terrible news and it can do horrible things to your mental health on top of *gestures again at the dumpster fire*.
Why is doomscrolling so addictive? Well, obviously, we are, in many ways, hard-wired to zero in on potential threats. Social media and the 24/7 news cycle just make it easier.
Yet there is also the fact that we are a society that is addicted to shaming and guilt. We see patterns of guilt and shaming both on the left and the right, frankly. Doomscrolling, in that sense, has become one way for us to underscore that “we are all in this together” — to spread the misery around, and to feel like we are, in fact, changing something when we read about something terrible happening.
Of course, doomscrolling in and of itself changes nothing. Being compelled to action by horrific events is one thing. Yet action requires boundaries to be effective. We’re no good to anyone when we are stretched too thin. Doomscrolling simply saps our potential energy to make a difference where it can actually count.
As a writer, I’m often angrily berated for not focusing on a specific area of the news. It’s a common sentiment, and if you’ve been doing what I do long enough, you learn to filter this stuff out to a degree. When we approach a topic rationally, we understand that nobody can be everywhere at once. If I’m writing about an endangered hippopotamus, I may not be able to write about an endangered mole rat. Furthermore, if I am guilted into writing about the mole rat, without having much expert background in the mysterious lives of mole rats, I could badly screw it up. We should apply a similar logic to doomscrolling. Not all of us are going to be spurred to action by the act of doomscrolling — and not all of the action that results from it will be helpful.
Also, the collective act of doomscrolling doesn’t bring us together like we think it does. We can experience a short feeling of solidarity, but soon, we are exhausted by all of the bad news. When we are exhausted, we snipe at each other — which makes us feel even more isolated from one another. In short, it’s simply not helpful.
It’s especially not helpful when people keep implying that NOT doomscrolling is some sort of privilege. Privilege exists in many overlapping forms, and the truth is, having the time to scroll for negativity porn on your phone can be a kind of privilege itself. Again, we can’t help others, we can’t be good neighbors, friends, and allies if we are running on empty.
So how to stop? There are many ways to do it, but one of the most basic means of quitting the addiction and feeling better is this: don’t go cold turkey, but do set timers for yourself. Take breaks from the news and social-media feeds that deliver them when your timers go off. Consciously replace them with other activities, such as reading a book, petting a friendly animal, or practicing your winking game now that we are all wearing masks all the time. Tell that feeling of guilt that it is not your friend, and can fuck right off off.
Good luck. If I can do it, so can you.
Image credit: Jan Vašek