May 27 2025.
views 27By Rihaab Mowlana
Why You’re Glued to Bad News - and Can’t Look Away
You know that person who posts every breaking news update before the journalists even have time to verify it? Who shares three different links about a new virus, followed by an anxious message saying, “Please don’t go out today”? Who floods the WhatsApp group with updates about crime, germs, and climate disasters, and then gets mad when no one reacts with the appropriate level of panic?
We’ve all seen this person. Some of us are this person.
Welcome to the age of doomscrolling. Where the headlines never stop, the algorithm rewards anxiety, and the line between staying informed and spiralling out is so blurry, you don’t even know you’ve crossed it.
Doomscrolling is the compulsive habit of scrolling through negative news, even when it makes you feel worse. It spikes during crises - pandemics, elections, economic collapses - but for some, it never really stops.
It’s not just about being informed. It’s about needing to know more, now, because your nervous system has been tricked into thinking constant vigilance equals control.
Studies show that doomscrolling increases cortisol levels, disrupts sleep, and can lead to chronic anxiety. But beyond that, it also impacts the people around you. Your fear gets forwarded. Your panic goes viral.
Why do we do it, even when we know it’s bad for us? Doomscrolling can feel deceptively productive. It gives us the illusion that we’re staying ahead. That if we just read one more article, watch one more video, or refresh the feed one more time, we’ll somehow feel more in control. In truth, we’re often chasing a sense of certainty that doesn’t exist.
This habit isn’t always driven by curiosity. For many, it’s rooted in anxiety. In a hyperconnected world, where bad news travels fast and loud, doomscrolling becomes a way to brace ourselves; to prepare emotionally for the worst. It creates a false sense of agency. If we know everything, we won’t be blindsided.
But the brain doesn’t distinguish between perceived and real threats. The more negativity we consume, the more our stress response kicks in. Over time, this doesn’t just elevate cortisol, it creates a kind of mental fatigue that makes everything feel heavier than it is. The scroll becomes addictive, not because it soothes us, but because it keeps validating our fears.
So while we scroll to calm the anxiety, we’re actually feeding it and exhausting ourselves in the process.
There’s a special kind of emotional chaos that plays out in digital spaces, especially WhatsApp groups. One anxious message can set off a ripple effect - the screenshots, the voice notes, the fake news, the fact-check links, the arguments.
People who catastrophize often don’t realise they’re doing it. They’re not trying to be dramatic. They’re overwhelmed, overstimulated, and trying to regain control by warning others. But sometimes, those warnings start to sound more like accusations: Why aren’t you taking this seriously? Why are you still going out?
The problem is, group chats aren’t built for nuance. And panic - once typed out and broadcasted - doesn’t always land the way it’s intended.
It’s not just news cycles or social media. Some people are wired for anxiety. Others have been shaped by unstable environments - childhood unpredictability, emotional neglect, or simply living in a country where safety is never guaranteed. Add rising costs of living, constant political instability, or even lingering trauma from past crises, and doomscrolling starts to look less like a bad habit and more like an emotional survival tool.
When the world feels volatile, constantly scanning for danger becomes a kind of self-protection. It feels like you’re staying prepared, even if that preparation is just knowing what the worst could be.
Unfortunately, living in that state of hypervigilance doesn’t actually shield you. It drains you.
Anticipating danger all the time doesn’t protect you from it, it just steals your peace long before anything even happens.
In a world where headlines are designed to hook, outrage, and overwhelm, unplugging isn’t ignorance - it’s a quiet act of resistance. Caring doesn’t mean consuming every crisis. You can be informed without being emotionally hijacked. You can show up without falling apart.
Doomscrolling tricks us into thinking we’re staying aware, but more often, it leaves us wired, weary, and worn out. The real strength now? It’s knowing when to stop. When to breathe. When to choose peace over panic - even if the algorithm disagrees.
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