“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” ~ Anne Lamott
You know that familiar routine: a tiring day at work, a long commute, kids, errands, messages, dinner, and notifications.
And then – finally – rest at the end of it all.
A soft, welcoming couch that curves in all the right places. A new episode of a beloved series that takes you to a rugged ranch in rural Montana. And some short videos that make you laugh: AI-animated cats reviewing street food, influencers in wigs sparring with married couples.
Flashy screens distract you enough to give you a headache and your daily worries fade into the background.
It’s relaxing, but it’s not too mentally taxing because your brain has already wrestled with enough.
And sure, you’ll eventually love starting that thick novel on your nightstand or pulling out your dusty watercolors for a quick sketch.
You would love to do something meaningful.
But your head is too foggy after a long day, and your mind can’t take any more challenges. You want to tune out and drop into a long sleep.
But here’s the thing: Your evening routine only feels comfortable. But then you wake up the next morning, checking your emails while drinking coffee for another long day.
Your relaxing evening of doomscrolling did nothing to relax you.
It didn’t bring the kind of rejuvenating rest that would empower you to face another day.
It left you confused and numb.
Because it may seem counterintuitive, but couch rot is actually far less relaxing than challenging yourself.
And maybe you already know it. The dangers of doomscrolling are well documented. No one needs another study to link social media to depression and anxiety.
But when you’re coming off a ten-hour workday, an evening reading a novel seems ridiculously unrealistic.
Slow-cooked stews and walks in the garden are wonderful for those without real jobs. For those without children, busy schedules, difficult clients and family issues.
And I’m not going to lie, I love a good doomscrolling session myself.
I love that hilarious AI cat video. I love snarky travel bloggers and well-edited tutorials on how to make Nordic fish soup.
But I also know that sinking feeling when you realize you’ve wasted too many evenings online.
That frustrating feeling when your occasional doomscrolling indulgence becomes a default, robotic habit you no longer even question.
And I’ve tried all the usual digital detox tips and hacks over the years. I set screentime limits, I downloaded meditation apps, and I put my phone away at dinner. But nothing actually worked.
Because I was too tired in the evening to try a new lifestyle change. I didn’t know where I would put those dusty watercolors.
Then it hit me. And I realized that I wasn’t doomscrolling because I was unmotivated or lazy.
I was doomscrolling because I had nothing else to do.
Watercolor? Reading? A walk in the park? Meditation? Gratitude journaling?
What should I write about? How should I meditate? Which app should I use? Where did I put my supplies?
These aren’t exactly the decisions you want to make after you’ve been stuck in traffic for an hour and wolfed down a plate of microwaved spring rolls for dinner.
So I decided to skip those decisions.
I decided to make my cozy, analog evening activities as simple and accessible as my smartphone and my TV remote.
I don’t know what to do with myself. No more doomscrolling as this is the easiest option available.
I made an analog basket.
I took a giant straw basket (which once held a gourmet sauce and spice set as a Christmas gift) and filled it with everything I needed for a quiet evening away from my screen.
Items include:
- Headphones (for listening to jazzy playlists and motivational podcasts)
- Adult Coloring Book (Keep My Hands While Listening)
- A challenging literary novel, a self-improvement book and a light romance (to suit my different moods and energy levels).
- Colored pencils, watercolors, and oil pastels
- Lined notebook (for gratitude journaling)
- Tarot cards (for journaling inspiration)
- Blank notebook (for drawing)
- Old magazines (for reading and making vision boards/collages)
- Jigsaw puzzle
- A simple book (for collecting recipes, quotes, and anything else that would otherwise disappear in my notes app)
Then I put this basket next to my nightstand, in a visible place where I would stumble upon it and not easily ignore it.
And you know what?
It actually works.
It was not easy at first. My hands were tight when I was doing journalism for a very long time. I didn’t know what to draw on my watercolor pad, and my sloppy sketches reminded me of how bad I’ve become since I practiced every day in college.
But at some point, I stopped caring if the sketches were worth sharing on Instagram Stories. I stopped caring if I thought that entry in my journal was eloquent enough to make it into the first draft.
Because no matter what I make (and no matter how much time I spend making things that will later end up in the recycling bin), I’ve come to realize that it’s still infinitely more satisfying than making nothing.
And then came that magical evening when I reached for my analog basket without a second thought. Just as automatically I picked up my phone once.
