“Almost everything will work again if you remove it in a few minutes, including you.” ~ Anne Lamott
You know the familiar habits: tired days at work, long trips, kids messaging, dinner, and notifications.
And then – finally – rest at the end of it.
Soft sofa that can be folded anywhere. A new episode of the beloved series that takes you to a rugged farm in rural Montana. And some short videos that make you laugh: AI animated cats check the street food, you influence in the wig, which shows the quarrel of a married couple.
Blinking screens bother you just enough to avoid headaches and your daily worries will fade into the background.
Relax, but it should not be too taxing, because your brain has wrestled enough.
And surely you finally want to start that thick novel on your vault or draw your dusty watercolor for a quick sketch.
You want to do something meaningful.
But your head is too foggy after a long day and your mind can no longer face problems. You want to rest and sleep longer.
But here’s the thing: Your nightmares just feel better. But then you will wake up sad the next morning, waiting another day when you make coffee and check your email.
Your relaxing night of doomscrolling rolls gave you a little rest.
It does not bring revival that will empower you to face another day.
It annoys and numbs you instead.
It may seem like the opposite, but rotting a chair is actually less relaxing than challenging yourself.
And maybe you already know. The dangers of doomscrolling are well documented. No one needs another study that links social media to depression and anxiety.
But when you leave ten o’clock in the evening reading a novel sounds ridiculous.
Slow cooking and gardening are good for those who do not have a real job. For those who do not have children, busy with work, difficult clients and family problems.
And I will not lie, I like good doomscrolling sessions by myself.
I love those funny AI cat videos. I love vague travel bloggers and well-edited tutorials on how to make Nordic fish soup.
But I also know the feeling of tears when you know you have left too many nights online.
That sad feeling when your occasional indifference turns into a default robotic habit that you no longer question.
And I have been trying all the usual digital detox tips and hacks for years. I set the screen time, I downloaded the meditation app, and I left my phone for dinner. But nothing really works.
Because I was too tired in the evening to try to change my lifestyle. I do not know where I put the smoky water color.
Then it hit me. And I realized that I was not scrolling because I was not motivated or lazy.
I’m searching because I have nothing else to do.
Watercolor? Reading? Walking in the park? Meditation? Grateful newspaper?
What should I write about? How should I meditate? Which software should I use? Where do I put my supplies?
These are not the decisions you want to make after you get stuck in traffic for an hour and drop a microwave oven for dinner.
So I decided that what I really needed to do was learn how to do it right.
I decided to make my cozy analog evening activities as easy and accessible as my smartphone and TV remote control.
No more wondering what to do with myself. No more doomscrolling scrolling as it is the easiest option.
I created an analog basket.
I took a huge straw basket (which used to be a set of sauces and spices for Christmas) and filled it with everything I needed for a quiet evening away from my screen.
Materials include:
- In-Ear Headphones (for listening to jazzy playlists and inspired podcasts)
- Coloring book for adults (to keep my hands while listening)
- Difficult literary novels, self-improvement books and mild emotions (to suit my various moods and energy levels)
- Watercolor and oil colored pencils
- Notebooks lined up (for gratitude)
- Tarot card (for journal inspiration)
- Blank notebook (for drawing)
- Old Magazine (for reading and viewing boards / puzzle making)
- Puzzles
- General books (for a collection of recipes, quotes, and more that will be missing in my Notes app)
Then I put this basket next to my vault in a visible place where I still stumble upon it and not easily ignored.
And you know what?
It really works.
At first it was not easy. My hand cramped when posting for too long. I did not know what to draw in my watercolor, and my cluttered sketches reminded me of the level I was getting worse 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 worrying if I sounded good enough in my journal to turn that item into an initial draft.
Because no matter what I created (and no matter how much time I spent creating something that would later end up in the trash), I realized that it was still more endless than creating anything.
And then came the magical evening when I reached for my analog basket without thinking. Like I picked up my phone automatically.
