Overstimulated and Numb: Drowning in Dopamine



It starts the moment I wake up.

That itch in my brain. 🧠

Not for food.

Not for water.

Not even for fresh air.

It’s for dopamine.

That cheap kind.

The kind that drips from a glowing screen in bite-sized pieces—scroll after scroll, swipe after swipe.

---

I reach for my phone before I even fully open my eyes.

One notification. Then two.

Before I know it, I’m thirty minutes deep in a world I don’t even remember entering. 😵‍💫

News that doesn’t matter to me.

People I don’t know.

Videos I can’t unsee.

Ads for things I never asked for.

---

The scary part?

It feels good.

That initial rush. That little spike of “yes, more.”

But it doesn’t last.

Because right after the pleasure... comes the fog.

---

I walk to the kitchen like a zombie.

The coffee smells good, but my mind’s still locked in a digital hallway, wandering aimlessly.

I eat my breakfast while doom-scrolling.

I laugh at memes I’ll forget in ten seconds. 😐

I compare my life to strangers I’ll never meet.

I bookmark content I’ll never return to.

My food gets cold. I don’t even taste it.

---

By noon, I feel tired.

Drained.

But not from doing anything meaningful.

Just... overstimulated.

My brain feels full but starving at the same time.

Have you ever felt that?

Like your mind is chewing on junk and begging for vegetables? 🥦

---

The day blurs.

Every task takes twice the time.

My attention jumps like a frog on hot sand.

I try to write.

I try to read.

But every five minutes, I pick up the phone again.

To check.

For what?

I don’t even know anymore.

---

They call it a “feed.”

But I’m not being fed.

I’m being stuffed. Force-fed content by invisible hands.

Algorithms smarter than me.

Designers who know just what color, sound, and movement will keep me glued.

---

Even the silence feels wrong now.

When I turn everything off, my mind rebels.

It begs for stimulation.

Like a child throwing a tantrum for candy. 🍭

---

And here’s the part that really messes me up:

I used to read books.

I used to paint.

Walk. Watch sunsets. Write poetry.

Now I can barely sit still long enough to enjoy one full breath without feeling the pull of a screen.

---

I’m not lazy.

I’m overfed.

Not with nutrients, but with noise.

Not with wisdom, but with distractions.

Not with depth, but with pixels.

---

Even happiness feels different now.

It’s not about contentment.

It’s about comparison.

It’s about aesthetics.

It’s about being seen.

And when no one likes the photo I post?

I feel like I don’t exist at all.

---

But here's the thing I’m starting to learn:

Silence is not the enemy.

Stillness isn’t laziness.

Boredom isn’t failure.

They're invitations.

To go deeper.

To unplug.

To be present.

---

So I’ve started taking small steps.

Leaving my phone in another room.

Writing a full journal page without looking at the time.

Listening to music without skipping. 🎵

Taking long walks without headphones.

It’s hard. So hard.

But every time I fight the urge to check—

I win a little piece of myself back.

---

If you feel it too...

That fog.

That dull ache in your skull after hours online.

That panic when the feed doesn’t refresh—

Just know you’re not alone.

---

We are not broken.

We’re just overfed.

And maybe... just maybe...

It’s time we learned how to fast. 🙏✨In a world that never stops shouting, sometimes the bravest thing you can do is choose quiet—because in the silence, you don’t just hear yourself… you finally remember who you are.