Here’s something that’s been sitting uncomfortably in my brain lately: I don’t really experience what I’d call “screen stress,” but I’ve definitely found myself in those loops where I’ve been on screens for hours and hours, and I look up and feel… exhausted. Not stressed exactly, just drained. And somehow in all that scrolling time, I’ve been neglecting analog things I actually need to do. Errands that keep getting pushed to tomorrow, books sitting unread, walks not taken.
It’s that damn infinite scroll, right? You start out thinking you’ll just check one thing, and suddenly it’s been two hours and you haven’t moved.And here’s the kicker: the guy who invented infinite scroll, Aza Raskin, deeply regrets creating it. He’s called it “behavioral cocaine” and said he didn’t foresee the consequences. He literally co-founded the Center for Humane Technology to fight against the attention economy he helped build. Even the person who made this thing wishes he hadn’t.
So when I came across an article by Robin Pickering, a public health professor at Gonzaga University, something clicked. She’s exploring a particular kind of modern irony: we’re all drowning in self-care advice (the wellness industry is a multi-trillion-dollar machine now), yet Americans' self-rated mental health is at the lowest point since Gallup started tracking it in 2001. And a big piece of this puzzle might be about how screens aren’t just stressing us out. They’re quietly monopolizing our time and energy in ways we don’t always notice.
The Accidental Experiment
So here’s the thing about Pickering’s take on all this. It’s not just theoretical for her. She actually suffered a concussion and got prescribed two months of strictly screen-free cognitive rest. No TV, no email, no Zoom, no social media, no streaming, no texting. Just… nothing digital for two months.
And here’s where it gets interesting: the benefits were almost immediate. Better sleep, longer attention span, and what she describes as “a newfound sense of mental quiet.” And this tracks with what we know about how our brains work: when cognitive and emotional stimuli decrease, our brain’s regulatory systems can actually recover from overload and chronic stress.
Now, obviously most of us can’t (and probably don’t want to) go completely screen-free for weeks or months. But that basic insight about reducing stimuli to let our brains recover? That’s something we can actually use.
The Exhaustion You Don’t See Coming
Here’s what I’ve noticed in my own life: it’s not that screens make me feel stressed in the moment. It’s that after hours of scrolling, switching between apps, consuming content, I feel completely wiped out. And somehow, in all that time, the errands I needed to run are still sitting there. The analog activities I know would actually refresh me? Taking a walk, reading a physical book, doing something with my hands. They just keep getting displaced.
The thing about infinite scroll is that it’s designed to feel effortless. There’s no natural stopping point. It’s not like finishing a chapter in a book or reaching the end of an album. You just… keep going. And before you know it, you’ve spent the entire evening or afternoon in this weird limbo where you’re not exactly enjoying yourself, but you’re also not doing anything else.
That’s the gap Pickering is talking about: the difference between feeling like you’re resting and actually creating the conditions for your brain to recover.
The “Rest” That Isn’t Really Rest
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: when you’re lying in bed scrolling through TikTok or leaving the TV on in the background while you do other things, it might feel like you’re resting, but your brain is still very much at work. Your attention, your emotions, all your sensory processing? It’s all still firing. Even while people are sitting or lying still, being onscreen can keep their nervous systems in a heightened state of arousal.
We’ve even created trendy terms for these behaviors. “Bed-rotting” (spending extended periods in bed while scrolling) is often framed as radical rest or self-care. But it’s not creating the biological conditions for actual restoration. It just looks like downtime from the outside.
And it’s not just about the time we intentionally spend on screens. Think about how often we pull out our phones during routine moments throughout the day, waiting for water to boil, standing in line, sitting at a red light. We’re repeatedly redirecting our attention back to screens in those small moments that could otherwise be… well, just moments of nothing.
The Algorithm Problem
Here’s what really gets me though: these platforms we turn to for “unwinding” aren’t exactly designed with our relaxation in mind. They’re built (very deliberately) to keep us engaged. And the way they do that? By serving up content that gets an emotional reaction out of us. Anger, anxiety, outrage. These are the feelings that make us click, share, and keep scrolling.
And this design is directly linked to higher stress, more distraction, and increased cognitive load. So we’re coming to these platforms exhausted from our day, looking for some relief, and they’re basically handing us content engineered to fire us up emotionally. It’s like trying to calm down by eavesdropping on a heated argument. Sure, you can’t look away, but you’re definitely not relaxing.
The Numbers That Make You Go “Huh”
Get this: about one-third of U.S. adults say they feel overwhelmed most days. Not some days. Most days. And the whole constellation of problems: sleep issues, anxiety, trouble concentrating, feeling emotionally exhausted. It’s showing up everywhere, especially in young adults and women.
But here’s what really strikes me: we’re more fluent in wellness language than ever before. We all know about “me time” and burnout and boundaries and nervous system regulation. We can talk about these things. We understand the concepts. But somehow knowing about it all isn’t translating into actually feeling better. That gap between knowing what we should do and actually doing it? That’s the part that feels so frustrating.
What Actually Helps
So the research points to something kind of counterintuitive: the answer isn’t adding more coping strategies to our routine. It’s reducing the number of demands we’re placing on our brains in the first place.
Instead of hunting for the next wellness hack or productivity system, maybe what we need is just… less. Fewer inputs, fewer demands, fewer things pulling at our attention.
Like, take multitasking with devices. You know when you’re watching TV with your phone in your hand? That’s not rest. You’re just splitting your attention between two different streams of stimulation. Turns out picking one or picking neither actually helps more than doing both.
Same thing with all those interruptions throughout the day. Every time you get a notification, switch apps, or do a “quick check” of your phone, that’s adding to cognitive fatigue. It might feel small in the moment, but it adds up. Giving yourself permission to just… not be constantly available or updated? That’s actually restorative.
And then there’s the environment piece. Spending time in quiet spaces, places without screens, being outside. These low-stimulation environments support our mood and emotional well-being in ways that high-stimulation digital spaces just can’t match.
Or trying those analog activities we keep talking about but never quite get around to. Reading actual physical books, journaling, gentle movement, walking without your phone. There’s something about the texture of paper, the weight of a pen, the simple act of moving through space that creates room for your brain to actually rest. These things let you engage mentally without overload.
The Bottom Line
Look, I’m not trying to demonize technology here or suggest we all need to become digital hermits. Screens and digital tools aren’t inherently bad. But there’s a real difference between feeling like you’re unwinding and actually allowing your brain and body to recover. And there’s an even bigger difference between choosing to spend time on screens and finding that screens have somehow consumed all your available time.
In Pickering’s words: “fewer screens, fewer inputs, fewer emotional demands and more protected time for genuine cognitive rest are important components of an effective wellness strategy.”
Maybe that’s the real self-care: not adding more tools or strategies or apps to our routine, but intentionally creating space where nothing is demanding our attention. Where we’re not consuming, processing, reacting, or engaging. Just… being. Or, you know, actually running those errands.
I’m writing this partly as a reminder to myself. The next time I reach for my phone “just to check one thing,” I’m going to ask myself: is this what I actually want to be doing right now, or is this just what’s easiest? Because those errands aren’t going anywhere, and that infinite scroll will always be there waiting.
But maybe today I’ll pick up that book instead.
What’s your relationship with screen-based “rest”? Have you noticed a difference when you unplug? I’d love to hear your thoughts.