[Issue #34] My Three Steps to Quit Doomscrolling (and How I Started Reclaiming My Attention)
A personal story, a wake-up call, and the three steps I took to get my time—and presence—back.
“You’re on your phone again,” my wife said to me while I was sitting on the rocking chair.
I looked up from my phone and realized something awful: my 16-month-old son had been playing quietly next to me for almost ten minutes, and I hadn’t noticed a single thing he did.
He was laughing—really laughing—as he figured out how to fit a red square block into a circle shape sorter. One of those pure toddler laughs that makes your whole body smile.
And I missed it.
I was too busy watching someone I don’t know on Instagram talk about the “5 life-changing habits of successful people.”
That moment broke something open in me.
If my son could talk, what would he say I valued? What was I teaching him?
Parenthood Is a Mirror
Becoming a parent doesn’t just change your life—it puts it under a microscope.
I started really noticing how often people around me are glued to their phones. At restaurants, during family get-togethers, even on walks. I love coming home, but when we visit 2-3 times a year, I often see most of us gathered in the living room, heads down, looking at devices.
That used to be me too.
And if I didn’t do something different, it was going to be my son next.
I didn’t want his first memories of me to be the top of my head while I stared into a screen.
That’s when I knew I had to stop doomscrolling—not just for myself, but for him.
The Books That Changed My Perspective
Around the same time, I read The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt. It’s a chilling, well-researched look at how social media and smartphones are rewiring our kids’ brains—and ours too.
One quote stuck with me:
“We have given our children the most powerful attention-capturing devices ever invented—and no guidance on how to resist them.”
That line haunted me. Because it’s true. Our kids will do what we model, not what we say.
Another book, The Siren’s Call, had this line I can’t shake:
“We are what we give our attention to.”
Those two books became the push I needed. I realized that I didn’t want my son to grow up thinking that being “half-present” is normal. Or that connection comes through a screen.
Nothing changes if nothing changes.
So, I started changing—slowly, clumsily, but intentionally.
My Three Step Plan That Helped Me Break the Habit
Quitting doomscrolling wasn’t a one-day fix. I wish it were. But like any habit that runs deep, it took time, strategy, and a little grace. Here's the three-step process I followed over four months:
Step 1: Add Friction to Your Phone
We make it so easy to fall into the trap—notifications, thumb placement, muscle memory.
To get out, I made things harder:
I deleted Instagram, Facebook, and X (formerly known as Twitter) from my phone.
I bought a traditional alarm clock so I couldn’t look at my phone in the middle of the night to check the time.
During the work week, I place my phone in a box from the hours of 5:30-7:30PM (more on the quotation later). Out of sight, out of mind.
Each of these small changes added just enough friction to make me pause—and often, that pause was enough.
Step 2: Give Your Attention Elsewhere
It’s not enough to take something away. You have to give yourself something back.
So I started replacing screen time with real presence:
I picked up reading again
I made more time to text and call friends (instead of just commenting & liking their social media posts)
I refocused on my fitness (and yes, we still have the Peloton)
Step 3: Find Accountability Partners (& a Schedule)
Probably the most important piece - find people to help hold you accountable to changes you actually want to make. I’m calling out two friends of mine below:
One of the best pieces of advice I gained from Leython Williams (we’ve been friends since 6th grade) was that there’s a “difference between being present and having presence.” (See photo above.) That deeply resonated with me, and now, I see this quotation every time I walk through the door at my house.
Erin Stranyak, a college friend of mine who lives in Paris, France noticed my Instagram post when I was trying to leverage the app Aro to help reduce my screen time (it was nice start, but not good enough). After some back and forth, we committed to each other to letting go of our need to scroll over the course of four months:
March 2025: one full week off social media on the phone
April 2025: two full weeks off
May 2025: three full weeks off
June 2025: skipped (because I had a ton of travel and wanted to document the vacations and trips online)
July 2025: a full four weeks off social media on the phone.
And the biggest shift after all three steps above?
I started sitting on the floor with my son. No distractions. No multitasking.
Just watching him grow, one red block at a time.
Modeling What Matters
For the record, I’m not anti-technology (I work for one of the most admired and successful AI tech companies in the world.)
I’m not perfect.
I still check my phone.
I still scroll sometimes.
But now I do it on purpose—not by default.
And I remind myself every day: My son is watching. My attention teaches him what matters.
We live in a world designed to steal our focus.
But our kids need us to be the ones who fight for it.
They need to see us look up.
Let’s get after it.
KL
