Doomscroll Detox (Attempt #369)

by Crystal Craig

Today, I tell myself, will be calm.
Gentle.
Tea, not tyranny.

While I wait for the kettle to sing,
my phone appears in my hand
like it teleported there…
muscle memory wrapped in guilt.

No. I will not look.
I will be present.
I will breathe deeply
and stir honey into stillness.

But… maybe just a peek.
To bear witness.
Because silence feels like complicity, doesn’t it?

Swipe.
A headline punches the air out of my lungs.
Another law ignored.
Someone’s humanity, debated again.
Abuse, justified.
Loopholes stretched thin.

My tea is cold.
I scroll harder.

I scroll because I care.
Because not caring feels obscene.
Because I can…
from the safety of my kitchen,
where the worst thing threatening me
is forgetting to stretch my empathy
between tragedies.

Stop, I say.
Be grounded.

I open the fridge.
Peanut butter.
Yes.
This is how we fix the world…
edible hope.

I eat justice by the spoonful
as my brain replays the news ticker
like a bad karaoke song
I can’t turn off.

I tell myself:
I will not look again.
I will compost.
I will recycle.
I will drop off food at the food bank,
smile at a stranger,
be relentlessly kind,
be the tiny light in the avalanche.

But later,
in the grocery line,
my thumb betrays me again.
Another atrocity,
another reason to breathe fire.

I am joyful.
I am furious.
I am grounded.
I am spiraling.

I am privileged enough
to have the time to argue with myself
about how much propaganda to let in
before bed.

The world burns,
and I light a candle,
whisper a prayer,
and scroll for updates on the fire.

I laugh…
a little too loudly…
because what else is there to do
but feel everything
and then eat more peanut butter.