The Calm Before the Doomscroll

Image by Caroline Reedy @doot_doodles

How many days does it take to form a habit? According to my topline Google research on the subject, it takes an average of 66 days for a new behavior to stick. If we go by this standard, I am halfway to forming the best of habits. For a little over a month, I have created a practice of not looking at any news or social apps on my phone in the morning until after I have spent some time to myself: relaxing, listening to music, maybe doing light exercise, and meditating. I have named this glorious hour and a half-ish each morning "the calm before the doomscroll"—and it has made a world of difference.

"Doomscrolling," the act of reading one news or social media headline after another about a zeitgeist colored by tragedy and conflict, is one of those terms that worked its way into our lexicon in what feels like days. Much like "Fake News" in 2016, it is a frightening echo of the reality of increasingly tumultuous and, depending on the opinion-silo of media consumption that you live in, troubling times. In the cavalcade of articles that have emerged on how to avoid doomscrolling, there have been some helpful hints, like setting a timer on your phone, opting out of notifications, and reorganizing apps.

These are great, actionable tips that I'm sure are helpful to most. However, I think of myself as a next-level screen addict. Wherever I am, if there's a screen around, I find it almost impossible to focus on anything else. As social media and smartphone culture worked their way into my life in an increasingly intertwined way, I became one of those people who can barely look away from their phone. And as my smartphone has become the primary tool through which I consume news media, I basically have a steady stream of negative information filling my headspace daily. This, as I'm sure one can imagine, is not great for my existing generalized anxiety.

Before I discovered the calm before the doomscroll, my entire morning would play like the "Twelve Days of Unprecedented Times": I would flop over upon waking and grab my phone. Before I was even out of bed, I would have skimmed four publications' e-newsletters, reposted three insta-graphics, liked two tweets, and watched one disturbing "Karen" video. Which, on most days when I wasn't working (I was a COVID layoff in April), would cause me to flop back over and spend the day numbing my neuroses on familiar sitcoms and romcoms. Then I began a new job in a new field that I took specifically because it allowed me more time to work on my writing. I knew I had to change my routine to greet the challenge of training for a new job remotely and get myself to a place where I could produce publishable material semi-regularly. Neither of those things would be possible after my soul-crushing morning doomscroll. 

I have also long wanted to shift my meditation habit from reactive to proactive: I usually meditate on days when I'm anxious or otherwise upset, so while I meditate reasonably frequently, as I am often anxious, I have not made it a consistent practice that helps me manage my anxiety constructively. According to the Mayo Clinic, meditation can reduce symptoms of anxiety. This information, plus my being an enthusiastic-yet-inconsistent meditator already, pushed me to develop my new habit and helped me discover the calm before the doomscroll.

I went about developing this habit through the strategic use of two alarms. My phone has a "bedtime" alarm that shuts off all notifications for the duration of time I'm supposed to be sleeping. I set that alarm for 8:30AM daily. Then I set another regular alarm for earlier in the morning. The time between that first alarm and 8:30 equals: the calm before the doomscroll. During that time, I usually listen to my special "Mornings" Spotify playlist, I may do sun salutations, or hit snooze a few times—all while basking in what every single bit of mindfulness content I have ever consumed has emphasized: the present moment. When the 8:30 alarm sounds, I know it’s time to meditate if I haven't already. Some mornings I feel I have time for a 20-minute podcast; some mornings, I take five controlled breaths, and that's the day's practice. During the calm before the doomscroll, my phone is present—it is how I listen to music and meditation podcasts—but at that moment, my phone is my friend, not the apocalyptic town crier it has been in recent months.

While I have found the discipline to work this practice into my daily routine for over a month now, I do not complete it impeccably every day. Some days I find myself clicking into apps while innocently going to change the music on my phone (this is almost always followed by furiously clicking out of said apps and returning in earnest to the present moment). Some mornings I only have time for those few quick breaths and then launch into a furious doomscroll. However, those mornings are rare, as are days when I max out my automatically-set time limit on social apps, which used to happen by mid-morning. Instead of requiring a TV show or podcast to go to sleep (while doomscrolling in bed), I've found myself putting away all the screens and going to bed in silence. The calm before the doomscroll may only be a small portion of my day, but it is proving itself to be a vital act of self-care that colors everything else I do. 

At this time of constant crisis-headlines, particularly in a world that went digital overnight, people are continually turning to social feeds. Parallels can be drawn to the era after 9/11 when people clung to 24/7 cable news. It's still an ongoing stream of information tailored to your political sensibilities, all with slight sensationalization, designed to keep you watching or scrolling. While I know keeping informed is an essential part of being both a good writer and a good citizen, hate-reading Instagram comments and the tweets of those I vehemently disagree with are not good practice. Suppose my mind is monopolized continuously by what I cannot control? In that case, I'll never be able to own the things I can control, or adequately participate in the things that I may not be able to control as an individual, but that may be changeable in a group. Self-care is, after all, "political warfare," according to Audre Lorde. And in a world where specific forces rely on a demoralized, desensitized, unengaged electorate, taking time to appreciate the present and put space between thoughts could have an astonishing impact.

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Justine Olivia Marks is a writer and content moderator. She can often be found in a yoga class, lost in her never-ending reading list, or taking photos of New York City. You can find her on Instagram or view her work on justineoliviamarks.com.

Caroline Reedy is a Brooklyn based digital artist, who has been mixing comedy with pastel colors since 2016. Her work is mainly inspired by pop art portraiture, mental health advocacy, and internet culture. She has had her work featured on Overheard New York/LA, Link NYC, and Hello Tittie. Check out her work on her instagram @doot_doodles.