Why we can't stop doomscrolling
Inward/Onwards #9
My relationship with social media, especially Instagram, is worse than it’s ever been. Which is ironic, because over the past years I have made sure to remove every influencer I only hate-followed and muted all accounts which made me feel bad about myself, but which I couldn’t unfollow for a myriad of (mostly professional) reasons.
Still, every time I open the app, I get angry. All the misogynistic, racist, fatphobic and simply tone deaf takes I’m trying to avoid keep finding their way onto my screen. They’re amplified in the stories of accounts that I follow, they show up while I’m mindlessly scrolling through reels and if I have missed any, I can be sure that someone will post a screenshot in one of my group chats.
All of this would be tolerable if the comment section wasn’t like catnip to me. I know so much better than to ever click on “comments”. Yet, nine out of ten times I find myself diving headfirst into the sea of online-hatred.
I rarely engage in discussions, because what’s the point, but I often rage about what I’ve just read to friends – or simply to myself. It’s entirely unhealthy and unhelpful, but I can’t stop. It’s a weird mix of the car crash I cannot look away from, journalistic FOMO and, as I have come to realize, some sort of twisted, self-inflicted punishment.