Breaking Free From Doomscrolling: From Willpower to Redesign

This is Part 3 of a series on breaking free from doomscrolling. Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Co-authored by Alicia del Prado and Bette Maisel

When we slow down enough to truly notice, everyday life reveals quiet moments of wonder. A child’s gleeful laughter, the rhythm of a shared meal, or the gleam of sunlight on a playground fountain—these are the small, unfiltered joys of being alive. But in this technological age, these moments are often interrupted. We reach instinctively for our phones, eager to capture or share rather than simply feel.

These small shifts in attention matter. While photos and videos preserve memories, presence allows us to experience them. Yet presence is harder to reclaim when our reflex, in every joyful moment, is to reach for a device.

In Parts 1 and 2 of this “Breaking Free from Doomscrolling” series, we explored inner change: learning to notice patterns without shame, understanding the feelings that drive our scrolling, and soothing them with tools.

The next phase of healing invites us outward, to reshape our surroundings.

Step 4: Reshaping Our Environment

Willpower alone rarely works. Our habits are shaped not just by what we intend to do, but by how our devices and spaces are designed. Step 4 is about creating conditions where presence becomes the default, not the uphill battle.

1. Tidy your phone.

• Keep only the apps you truly need each day.
• Move distracting apps into folders so they’re harder to find.
• Add friction where it counts: Log out of shopping or social platforms so it takes extra steps to reenter.

Even small changes like choosing not to shop from mega-retailers can help reduce impulsive scrolling. By redesigning our habits of consumption, we take back control over both our attention and our values.

2. Set up your space.

• Designate one no-phone zone in your home—a cozy corner, reading nook, or chair.
• Keep simple grounding tools nearby: a journal, a candle, a book, or a sound bowl.
• Choose one daily ritual to be tech-free: dinner, bedtime, or morning coffee (Wood & Rünger, 2016).

Creating these intentional boundaries helps presence feel inviting rather than punitive. Instead of denying ourselves pleasure, we make room for a deeper kind of joy.

Step 5: Growing Into New Life

Once the grip of scrolling begins to loosen, recovery becomes less about deprivation and more about creation. Step 5 moves us from subtraction to addition. We get to build a life so fulfilling that the urge to scroll naturally fades.

1. Clarify your values.
Take a look at a values list and circle your top five; for example, family, creativity, health, rest, curiosity, and connection. Ask yourself: Are we living in alignment with these? Then identify one small, tangible action that embodies them this week.

2. Visualize your future self.
Imagine the version of you five or 10 years from now who has reclaimed hours each day. What does that life feel like? What relationships have deepened? What dreams have room to breathe?

3. Activate your behavior.
Schedule one small, meaningful activity each week—call a friend, paint for 15 minutes, take a walk after dinner, or share a meal with loved ones. Protect these choices like appointments.

4. Take time for journal reflections.

• How do we want to spend the time we’ve reclaimed?
• What dreams have we left behind?
• What spaces can we make screen-free and sacred?

Recovery isn’t just about breaking free from something; it’s about moving toward something richer. Over time, presence becomes its own reward. The pull of the scroll weakens, replaced by the pull of life itself.

An Experiment to Try

This week, try one tool from each step:

• Step 4: Create a device-free zone. For 15 minutes a day, put your phone in another room while you eat, play, or wind down for bed. Notice what changes in your body and your mind.
• Step 5: Write down your top three values and choose one small action that honors one of them.

Then reflect: Did carving out that space shift how you felt? Did your urge to scroll weaken? Each attempt strengthens the muscle of awareness and choice.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Connection

Here’s the road map, in five steps:

1. Name the problem without shame.
2. Name the feelings beneath the urges.
3. Soothe those feelings with care.
4. Reshape your environment.
5. Grow into a life that reflects your values.

These steps aren’t about perfection. They’re about possibility. Many of us have known the fleeting thrill of online validation, the temporary rush that comes with likes and shares. It’s human. There’s no shame in it. The real question is what happens when that becomes our primary source of connection.

Technology isn’t inherently bad. It’s both a tool and a trap. What makes it dangerous is its precision: Screens can hijack reward pathways in the brain and reinforce compulsive use in ways that echo substance processes. The harm extends beyond individuals, rippling through families and relationships.

So what does our collective scrolling mean for those who come after us?

As singer Joy Oladokun reminds us in her folk ballad on mental health, “Look up,” our children already know how. One recent afternoon, a little voice tugged at a sleeve and pointed skyward at the rain clouds, whispering awe. These are the moments worth protecting.

Let’s laugh at the splash pad, sit down to mealtimes without checking our notifications, and notice the rituals that make up real life. Let’s remember that while glossy iPhone ads once promised that connection lived inside the device, the truest kind—the messy, tender, fleeting kind—exists outside of it.

Technology will inevitably continue to evolve—and if the trajectory of the past few decades is any guide, its capacity to captivate will only deepen. Each new design iteration refines its ability to anticipate our needs, capture our attention, and monetize our time, but that doesn’t mean we’re powerless. With a harm reduction focus on cutting back our use, we don’t have to abandon technology or let it define us. We can reclaim presence. We can protect not just hours, but years of our lives for the people, values, and experiences that matter most.

Therapist Bette Maisel specializes in addiction, trauma, and neurodivergence, and has worked in hospitals, community mental health, higher education, and private practice.