I’m a doomscrolling news junkie. This is how I could fix it

There ought to be a 12-step program for people like me, but I fear it’s too late.

Yes, my name is Jenna Price and I am a news junkie. Perfect for the career I’ve chosen. But right now, not all that perfect.

Starting each day by scanning headlines and panicking is not sustainable.Credit: Getty Images

Every morning I wake up, scan the headlines. Panic. That’s not good for me and I fear it’s not good for any of us. I want to know what’s going on but then it worries me. As one joker posted last week: “You’ll be too young to remember, but there was a time when you could wake up as many as three mornings in a row and not find the world had lost its f---ing mind.”

Those days are so gone. Donald Trump’s braggadocio is keeping me up at night.

There’s a cute genre of stories called something like “Day On A Plate”. It’s where a dietician explores what you eat and judges your physical health. Pretty sure my food intake is so normal for an old lady it would bore everyone to bits. Way too many vegetables. Way, way too much oily fish. Not that any of it is going to ward off my genes.

But here’s my mind on a plate: stir, reach for phone, open eyes. Check to see if chaos has befallen the world. More accurately as of January 20, check to see what chaos has befallen the world. Read (some of) this masthead, the Canberra Times, the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Guardian. Listen to AM, PM, The World Today. Bit of Crikey. The Conversation. Rolling Stone. The Atlantic. The New Yorker. Check the socials.

Of course, not everything in everything. That would not be possible. I like to watch the sky and the trees and any nearby water. I like to write and cook and talk. My god, I love a chat. A small nuzzling grandchild is an excellent restorative. A small wailing grandchild an even better distraction.

But over the past two weeks, the doomscrolling, the gloom rolling over, got to me. It got so bad I consulted a psychologist. Well, not exactly, but I did call Joel Pearson, professor of neuroscience at UNSW. Pretty much the first thing he asks me is if I’ve ever practised “box breathing”. Well, yeah, of course. Breathe in for six. Hold for six. Breathe out for six. Hold for six. Think about drawing a box while you are doing it. Six is the goal. Four if I’m feeling impatient. Every. Other. Day.

But I give it to him straight. “I’m finding everything so much harder than ever before.” And in return, he smartly asks: “When you say everything, do you mean everything? Or is there something specific?”

I have a list: war, war, more war, bombs, more war, bombs. Endless images of maimed and slaughtered children. It does not include AI (although after my consultation with Pearson, it now appears; rows of ghastly ghostly bots making millions of mistakes).

Turns out, he says, humans have evolved to fear uncertainty, ambiguity. Well, yeah. Don’t we all want to know how to avoid dying? And how we might all evolve to avoid war? Because I’d love to be certain about that.

The science? The uncertainty fires up our limbic system and puts us into fight or flight. Oh my god. I do not wish to do either. Pearson’s vibe is that we should embrace this because our modern lives need us to be adaptable. Sure, although I’d love not to have to be adaptable to war. I’d love no-one to have to be adaptable to war.

Aside from the box breathing, Pearson has other tips which I cannot even attempt. He only looks at the news twice a day. I explain that would absolutely not be possible for me. We then bargain between what’s possible and what’s likely. Is once an hour for five minutes enough?

He suggests the physiological sigh: two short sharp in-breaths and one long exhale. Slows your heart rate. Develop habits like going to the gym. But don’t just do this when you are having a huge anxious moment. Don’t try it for the first time when you are feeling the pressure build. Feel and feed the daily habits.

Getting outdoors is a good way of avoiding screens. Credit: Destination NSW

“You want to practise those things when you are feeling good so that it’s an automatic response.”

He also tells me to stop watching screens. Watching clips of endless violence is much worse than reading about it. You carry those images with you for a long time after seeing them. Tell me about it. The images of Israelis on October 7, 2023. The images of Gazan children and their families. Bomb blasts in Ukraine. Reels and reels of them.

Then Pearson drops the AI bomb (not something that worried me before my conversation with him). Basically, it’s going to take our jobs and make everyone miserable for a few years.

After I hang up, I start worrying. And even though Pearson has never practised clinically, he does what every good therapist should do after a tough session. He checks in: “Sorry if I made you feel a bit anxious with all my future predictions, but I think it’s good to shift the conversation and get people talking about it. I think humans are amazingly resilient, and if we band together, we can make the future much, much better than the past.”

He also makes a prediction: “AI will be hugely transformative in a positive way and it will solve our biggest challenges and eventually will get to utopia.”

Don’t think I can bust my addiction. And I don’t think this is the right time to look away.

Hope I’m still alive for Pearson’s predictions. Otherwise I’ll just have to settle for well-informed nirvana, 12 steps be buggered.

Jenna Price is a regular columnist for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.