Hijacked- Stop scrolling for 30 seconds

Why is it so hard to put your phone down once you have started scrolling? Why do likes, followers and endless notifications feel so rewarding, even when we feel less connected than ever?

In this episode, I unpack these answers.  Join me on a journey and discussion about dopamine, cortisol, neuroscience and even my own doom scrolling down falls.  We will explore the reward system, our evolution in belonging, algorithms, advertising, scrolling habits and what keeps up engaged for far longer than ever expected.  

I'll link all of this to the nervous system and how it responds to the constant flood of information, comparison, stimulation, and why these tendencies might be leaving us feeling anxious and disconnected.  

We'll close with a grounding somatic practice designed to help you shift out of auto pilot, and back into the body with just a simple pause.  This is about creating a healthier relationship with technology, not giving it up completely.  It's about intentionality, not getting lost and loosing time.  

https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/1d750ca5-3789-397a-bf2f-b1c5628fb5aa/

https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/2ed6c51c-962a-4548-876f-165ba4474248/

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:00

Welcome back to the grounding room. I have a very fun conversation, maybe an awkward conversation. I don't really know what this is gonna be like today, so but what I want to talk about is social media. I don't know how this is gonna go, but I think it's important. And I was talking to somebody the other day on the phone. Uh we were FaceTiming and they were scrolling while we were FaceTiming. So that's what gave me the idea for this podcast. And basically I called it hijacked because I think our phones have essentially hijacked us, um, mostly our personalities. But my hope in this is that we can talk about our need for feeling accepted on social media, the advertising that happens on social media, and connecting it to the nervous system and kind of feeling how maybe when we're with people, we actually don't feel connected right now and how to bring that connection back. I just want to start with one question. When was the last time you picked up your phone without thinking? Not because you heard a ding or you got a message or your phone was ringing or anything like that, but just before your brain could even think what you were doing, the first thing you reach for is your phone. Maybe it happened this morning, maybe it happened five minutes ago, your eyes haven't even fully opened before your hand reaches across to your nightstand, before you even let your feet hit the floor and you're already scrolling. The news, you have to see what's on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, emails, notifications. Five minutes becomes 20, becomes an hour, and before you know it, instead of feeling connected, you feel like a little emptier. If you have experienced this, you're not weak, you're human. I do the same thing sometimes, but today's episode isn't about blaming social media. It isn't about telling you to throw your phone away or move into the woods, it's about understanding something a little bit deeper. Because what we're really talking about isn't technology, we're talking about our nervous systems. An ancient biology trying to survive in a modern digital world. And somewhere along the way, the oldest parts of our brains met the newest technology ever created. And that combination has changed nearly every aspect of how we relate to ourselves, each other, and even our own bodies. I want to explore how social media and advertising are designed to capture attention, why the need to be followed and liked feels so powerful, and what happens inside the brain and nervous systems when we live in a constant cycle of stimulation and how we can gently come back to ourselves through somatic healing. Because the answer isn't more discipline, and it isn't shame, and the answer isn't deleting every app or throwing your phone away. The answer to this, and what I hope to help with is learning to regulate our nervous system that those apps were designed to overactivate. We were never meant for this. Imagine 2000 years ago, we were standing in a village, every face around you was familiar to you. If someone smiled at you, you knew them. If someone looked away, you noticed it. And if someone rejected you, it really mattered to you. Because belonging meant survival. It's our tribal instinct to want to be connected. And years ago, being excluded from a tribe wasn't emotionally painful, it was actually physically dangerous for us. Humans survived because we stuck together. Our brains evolved around connection, and every nervous system alive today carries that ancient wiring. So why do we feel more disconnected than ever? Your body still believes acceptance equals safety. It still believes that rejection equals danger. When that ancient brain suddenly has access to hundreds and thousands of options every single day, our biology didn't evolve fast enough to understand this. Our ancestors never compared themselves to influencers before breakfast, which we do daily. They didn't see people's edited lives every 30 seconds, and they weren't exposed to advertisements telling them that they were too old or too tired or had too many wrinkles or that they were overweight or unproductive or too behind in everything they're trying to accomplish. Today, we absorb these messages before we've even had our first sip of coffee. And this is destroying our nervous systems. Our nervous systems are processing far more information than they were ever designed to handle. And our bodies are paying the price. Let's talk followers. Why does that matter so much? Even when I started this podcast, I swore to myself that even if this helped one person, that's all I wanted. And it doesn't matter if nobody listens to me because realistically, who cares? I'm just talking to a microphone. It doesn't matter. Do I have information I think is helpful? Yes. But I found myself going to the app to see how many people downloaded my episode and honestly, I had to delete the app because I started to realize that I was falling into the trap of how many people are listening to me. And it doesn't matter. I'm doing this because I enjoy it and it's fun. And I don't really care if nobody hears it. Maybe nobody will. Even people who say they don't care often feel a small sting when a post receives little attention. I know that feeling. Why? Because the brain doesn't actually distinguish very well between digital approval and actual social approval. Every notification whispers something in our ear. You belong or you don't belong, you're accepted, you've been seen. That tiny red notification bubble isn't just information, it's reassurance. For just a moment, and then it disappears. So then we check it again, and then it disappears again. And this isn't a character flaw, it's reinforcement learning. One of the most powerful systems ever discovered in neuroscience is something called intermittent reinforcement. It's the same principle that keeps people pulling on levers on a slot machine. Intermittent reinforcement is also something that very manipulative people use in relationships. Sometimes there's a reward and sometimes there isn't. But it's the uncertainty in it that keeps us engaged. Social media works the exact same way. Maybe somebody liked your photo, maybe nobody liked your photo. Your brain learns to anticipate the possibility of reward, and that anticipation itself becomes addictive. It's often not the reward itself that hooks us, it's waiting for the reward. Our brain becomes hunters. Except instead of gathering food, we're gathering validation. Advertising understands your brain way better than you think it does. And here's something super fascinating. Advertisement has changed dramatically over the last 50 years. Companies used to sell products, now they sell identities. Not shoes, but a lifestyle that wears those shoes. Not skincare, but a lifestyle that has good skin. Not coffee, but success. Not cars, but now status. Advertisement stopped asking what we need, and it now asks us who do you wish you were? Then it quietly suggests that you aren't there yet. You need this new thing to get there. Every advertisement begins with a tiny wound, then offers itself the bandage. This creates what I learned from a psychologist is called an inadequacy loop. You notice something wrong in quotation marks, and you feel discomfort. The brain searches for relief. The product promises that relief. Sometimes it helps, but most of the time the feeling returns. So another product appears, and then another, and the cycle continues. Not because we're foolish, but because we're human and because our nervous systems naturally seek safety, certainty, and belonging. There's a cost to living outside of ourselves. Perhaps the greatest consequence of social media isn't distraction, it's the disconnection that comes along with it. We slowly stop asking how do I feel and begin asking, How do I appear? We stopped worrying about how we feel years ago, and we worry now about how we appear to everybody, including people that don't matter to us. Those are very different things. One leads inwards and the other leads outwards. When enough of our attention lives outside of ourselves, we lose something precious, our ability to hear the quiet wisdom of the body. When the body talks to us, but the algorithms are shouting at us, guess which one usually wins? Every time we interrupt our internal experience to check our external world, we reinforce a habit, not just a mental habit, neurologically. The pathway becomes stronger. Eventually reaching for the phone happens before we even notice that the emotion has inspired us to do so. Loneliness, boredom, grief, stress, fear, excitement. We stopped feeling all of these emotions and instead we scroll over them. The body waits patiently, still carrying whatever was never processed. And over months and years of ignoring our body, those unprocessed experiences accumulate as tension, exhaustion, anxiety, restlessness, and persistent feelings that something is missing. But what's missing? It's us. We're missing from ourselves. We have no more connection, even to ourselves. So what is it that social media does to our brain and our nervous system? Because social media doesn't simply influence our thoughts, it changes what's happening inside our body. Your nervous system doesn't know the difference between a lion approaching in a village 2,000 years ago and the emotional stress of reading a hundred comments questioning your worth. Your nervous system has one primary job. Most of us think our nervous system exists to help us think. Actually, its first responsibility is survival. Long before your brain decides what to eat for lunch, and long before you solve a problem, your nervous system is already scanning every second, without you being aware, the same way your lungs breathe for you without you thinking. Scientists call this neurosception, a term coined by Dr. Stephen Porge through the polyvagal theory. It describes the body's constant unconscious evaluation of safety or danger. Your body is always listening. Is this environment safe? Can I relax? Do I need to prepare for a fight? Should I run? Should I freeze? The remarkable thing is that these decisions happen before conscious thought. The body responds first. The mind creates the story afterwards. We're gonna get a little sciencey for a minute, but imagine the autonomic nervous system. Imagine it as having three primary states. The first is the ventral vagal regulation. This is where we feel calm, connected, creative, curious, and compassionate. In this state, breathing deepens, digestion improves, and our immune system functions exactly the way it's supposed to. We can think clearly and we make better decisions. This is the state where healing occurs. The second is a sympathetic activation. This is what many people know as a fight or flight. Your heart beats faster, your breathing becomes more shallow, stress hormones rise, your attention is narrowed, and the body prepares for activation. This system is magic. It has kept humans alive for hundreds of years. The problem isn't that we experience the stress, the problem is that we rarely leave it anymore. And then the third state is the dorsal vagal response. When the nervous system believes escape isn't possible, it may move into shutdown. This is where many of us live right now. This can feel like numbness, disconnection, dissociation, hopelessness, brain fog, exhaustion. Many people mistake this for laziness and it's not. It's protection. The nervous system is conserving energy because it believes the world feels overwhelming and it can't cope. Scrolling can keep us in the dorsal vagal response. The survival mode. Consider what happens during an average 20 minutes on social media. We start with a funny video. Then we have a political argument. Maybe you see your friend who went on vacation. Maybe there's a tragic news story. Maybe you see a fitness influencer and you start to think, I should work out more. Then a financial expert is warning about a recession or AI taking over the world. Then you see a wedding and you're not married yet, or you see news about the war, and then you see a baby puppy. And then an advertising is telling you that your skin needs fixing. And then you get another notification, and then another opinion, and then another emotional stimulus. Your nervous system is asked to respond to dozens, sometimes hundreds, of emotional cues in very few moments. This is unlike anything in human history. Our ancestors experienced stress in bursts. It happened periodically. The threat appeared, the body responded, and then the danger passed. The nervous system returned to regulation. Today, we never complete that cycle. We accumulate stress without discharge, and our bodies remain subtly prepared for the next emotional interruption. Video games are designed the exact same way for this. Dopamine is the most misunderstood hormone, but also one of the most powerful. Dopamine has become a hormone that we talk about and almost synonymous with pleasure in every culture. Neuroscience tells us something more interesting though. Dopamine isn't primarily the chemical of pleasure, it's the chemical of motivation and anticipation. Dopamine says pay attention. Something important might happen. Keep looking. Think about refreshing your feed. You don't know what you'll see. Maybe nothing. Maybe something exciting. That uncertainty is exactly what drives dopamine. Every swipe becomes a question. Every refresh becomes a possibility. This keeps the brain engaged. And it's one reason endless scrolling can feel so difficult to stop. I've done it. You have too. We all have done this. The brain is waiting for the next rewarding moment. Interestingly, the anticipation often creates stronger dopamine responses than the reward itself. So even when the context isn't particularly satisfying, we keep searching. I just did this the other day. For some reason, I've been enjoying reels of Dr. Phil episodes, which I have never watched a day in my life. And there was one episode where I only saw half, and I just kept scrolling until I could get the second part of it because I needed to know what happened. And I finally caught myself doing it and was like, Christina, enough. You don't need to know what happened at the end of that episode. And I really got down on myself for it because I felt ridiculous. Now let's talk cortisol, another hormone that's misunderstood. Cortisol is not our enemy. Even though everybody wants you to lower your cortisol, which is important, it's not an enemy. In healthy amounts, cortisol is essential. It actually helps wake us up, which I've talked about before on this podcast. It helps us respond to challenges, and it helps us maintain our energy. The problem with cortisol is that when it's elevated for long periods of time, it becomes problematic. Constant notifications, breaking news, comparing yourself to other people, conflict online, arguments. Past couple years, politics have been crazy, advertising, financial worries, information overload. Each one may produce only a small increase in your stress hormone. But altogether, they create something researchers call allostatic load. This is a cumulative wear and tear that chronic stress places on the body. Over time, this contributes to the sleep patterns that are disruptive, the digestive issues that people have, your mood changing, inflammation in the body, overwhelming fatigue, and it's not one stressful post. It's thousands of small activations that never fully resolve. And during all this, an important concept that people don't talk enough about is intrusion, which is your ability to notice what's happening inside your own body. Can you feel your heartbeat? Can you sense tension in your shoulders? Can you recognize hunger before you're starving? Can you notice sadness before it becomes overwhelming? And can you feel joy while it's happening? Introsception is the foundation of emotional regulation. Because emotions don't begin in the mind, they begin in the body. But here's what constant digital stimulation does. It trains our attention outward, towards the screen, towards notifications, towards everybody's opinions about us, and more attention moves outwards. The quieter our awareness of ourself becomes, our intuition is dying. Eventually, many people stop noticing what they feel until their bodies practically shout at them, which looks like a panic attack or burnout, chronic fatigue, migraines, insomnia, emotional exhaustion. The body has been speaking all along. We've simply become fluent in the language of screens and forgotten the language of our bodies. There is a built-in path back to your calm, and that's the vagus nerve. I have an entire 10-minute podcast on the vagus nerve if you want to know more about it. But the hopeful news is that your body was designed with an incredible system for returning to regulation. That's what somatic work does. One of the most important parts of that system is the vagus nerve. The vagus nerve is a communication highway between your brain and all of your organs. It influences your heart, your lungs, your digestion, your facial expressions, even the tone of your voice. And when the vagus nerve is functioning well, you feel grounded, you feel present and you feel connected and safe. But chronic stress can make it more difficult to access this regulated state. The great thing about this is just as chronic activation changes the nervous system, intentional regulation can change it back. This is called neuroplasticity. Your nervous system is constantly learning. Every scroll teaches us something. Every moment of mindful breathing also teaches us something. Every pause before reaching for your phone teaches it something. And every act of genuine human connection teaches your nervous system something. The nervous system changes through experience, not through force. I'd like to invite you to try being curious for a minute. Not judging yourself. We're talking simple curiosity here. The next time you reach for your phone, pause just for one second and ask yourself, what am I hoping to feel by picking my phone up? Am I hoping to feel connected, distracted, comforted, validated, less lonely, more inspired, maybe less anxious? There's not a wrong answer, but the answer does matter. Because if you know what your nervous system is truly asking for, you may discover that there are other ways to meet those needs. Sometimes the phone isn't the solution. Sometimes it's just the messenger. And underneath the habit, your body may simply be asking for rest, for movement, for a deep breath, for some laughter, for hanging out with friends, for maybe some tears, or another human being. I want to assure you that this conversation is not about your phone and it's not about social media. It's about a deeper conversation, about one timeless human question. Am I enough? For years we were validated when a friend laughed at our joke, or when a grandparent held our hand, or when our parents looked into our eyes and told us we were great. We were validated when our neighbor knew our name. We belonged simply because we existed. But today, many of us unconsciously ask a very different audience to answer the same question. We ask strangers on the internet, algorithms, followers, and we listen to comments that don't mean a thing. They're just numbers on a screen. And numbers can never answer a question that belongs to the heart. We live in a world where we compare ourselves to everybody and everything. Comparison has always existed, but never to this magnitude. Imagine living in a small village. You might compare yourself to 20 or 30 people. Today, before lunch, you probably compared yourself to thousands of other people. Someone has a better body than you, or a larger home, or they're traveling more, they're getting married, and someone else may seem to meditate every morning and cook perfect meals while they're homeschooling their child and exercising daily and somehow they smile effortlessly. But what we're forgetting is that social media is rarely a documentary. It's just a highlighted reel, a careful edited collection of moments. No one posts the arguments they had on vacation with their husbands because they were driving too fast or because the kid was screaming on the plane. Yet our nervous system often responds as though we're witnessing somebody's entire life. And slowly, comparison becomes internalized. We begin measuring our ordinary Tuesday against someone else's most extraordinary moments. And the comparison is impossible to win. This may surprise you, but your nervous system doesn't actually care about you being perfect. It cares about keeping us safe. Those are not the same thing. Perfection is endless, and safety is enough. The body relaxes when it senses, I don't have to perform to belong. Think about that. I don't have to perform to belong. How much of your life has been spent performing? Performing your competence, your happiness, your productivity, your success, and your healing. Sometimes we become so committed to appearing well that we stop noticing how we actually feel. Imagine spending years standing on a stage, every decision influenced by applause, every sentence adjusted to receive the approval of others, every photograph chosen for maximum admiration. Eventually, something subtle begins to happen. You forget who you are when no one is watching. And many people describe this feeling. Or I don't know who I am anymore. This isn't because they've lost themselves. It's because they've spent so much time orienting toward the external world that their internal compass has gone quiet. One of the greatest teachers we have is the body. The body doesn't speak in words, it speaks in sensations. A tightness in your chest or warmth spreading across your face, goosebumps during meaningful conversations, tears that appear before explanations. These sensations are all information. They're not problems and they're not inconveniences. It's information. Yet many of us have learned to override them. We're tired, we drink more coffee. We're lonely, we scroll on the phone. We're anxious, we work harder. We're grieving, we distract ourselves. And when we're overwhelmed, we consume more information. While our bodies whispering, please stop. Our habits drown them out. And the irony is that the relief we seek is often waiting beneath the discomfort we're trying to escape. I want to offer a gentle experiment. The next time you feel the urge to reach for your phone, pause for just 30 seconds. There's one final thought I'd like to leave you with before we move into our guided somatic practices. You're living in a culture that often encourages you to market yourself, to build a brand or increase engagement, to create more content or gain more followers. But your value has never depended on your visibility. A flower blooming in a quiet forest is no less beautiful because no one posts a picture of it. A bird that sings even if no one records it. And the ocean doesn't ask for applause before making waves. Nature isn't performing, and yet it is intensely beautiful. Nature simply expresses itself. It's possible that we were designed to do the same. In our final part together, we're going to step away from theory. We're going to let the body lead. If you've stuck with me this long, I'd like to guide you through a somatic practice that can help calm the nervous system, restore a sense of internal safety, and gently loosen the grip of compulsive scrolling and the constant search for external validation. Because understanding changes the mind, but experience changes the nervous system, and healing lives in that experience. Before we change anything, let's notice what already exists. Close your eyes if that feels comfortable and you're not driving. Notice your breathing without deepening it or controlling it. Simply just notice it. Where do you feel it most? Your chest, your ribs, your belly. Maybe your breathing feels shallow. Whatever you notice is welcome. Slowly look around the room. Move only your eyes. Notice something that feels neutral or pleasant. It can be a window, a plant, a picture, a blanket. Take your time and allow your eyes to land softly on the object. Every time your eyes rest somewhere safe, your nervous system receives information. Not through words, but through the experience. Your body begins to understand that I am here and I am safe. Now take a gentle inhale through your nose. Before exhaling, take one tiny second inhale. Then slowly exhale through your mouth. Long, easy, just like you're fogging a window. Again, inhale and take a second small sip of air. And allow a long exhale through your mouth. Let's do that three more times. And notice if your shoulders soften, or if your jaw loosens, or if your heartbeat slows a little. Don't force the relaxation. You're simply giving the body permission. So let's help complete it. Begin by gently shaking your hands, then your arms. Allow your shoulders to move in any way that feels comfortable. Gently shake your legs. And if you're standing, allow your whole body to bounce softly. Imagine that you're a tree releasing yesterday's wind. I say this often, but animals in nature naturally shake after stress. Humans don't. We mistake stiffness for composure. But sometimes healing looks like movement. Take another twenty or thirty seconds, shake, bounce, move, yawn if you need to, stretch if your body asks for it. There's no perfect way, only your way. Notice the difference, even a subtle one. Your body just practiced letting go. Now allow your hands to rest. Ask your body one gentle question: What do you need from me today? Not what your mind needs or your schedule or your to-do list. What does your body need? And then simply listen. And nothing is also an answer. Listening itself is how this works. Now we're going to try to replace the scrolling a little bit. Imagine the next moment you reach for your phone, see yourself pausing just for one breath. Rest one hand over your heart and the other on your belly. Instead of opening an app, ask yourself, what am I actually longing for? It could be connection, rest, joy, comfort, inspiration, adventure. Imagine giving yourself one tiny piece of that need before you open your phone. That may look like taking one deep breath before you open your phone. Or a quick stretch before you open your phone. A glance out the window before you open your phone. Small moments become new neural pathways. This is how habits change, not through punishing yourself, but through replacing it. Close your eyes and feel the air is cool. The trees are swaying gently. Sunlight filters through the leaves. No one is watching you. No one is judging you. There are no followers, no notifications, no advertisements, no expectations, only breath and bird song. As you walk along the path, you notice someone sitting beneath a tree. As you come closer, you realize it's you. Not the version of you that learned to perform. Not the version that you made up. The younger you, the authentic you, the part of you that existed before comparison, before performance, likes, followers, before proving yourself to everybody around you. Take a moment and sit beside that younger self. Look into their eyes and say these words slowly. You never had to earn my love. You never had to become someone else. I've been looking everywhere for you. And today I came home to you. Take a slow breath in. Imagine embracing your younger self. Not to change them, simply to remind them that they were never alone. Before I sign off for today, I want you to remember one thing. Social media is designed to keep your attention, and advertisement is designed to influence your desires. Algorithms were designed to predict your behavior. But none of those systems are designed to know your soul. Only you can do that. Your worth has never been measured by views, and your value has never dependent on followers. Your nervous system needs safety, presence, and kindness. Remember that your life is far richer than can ever be captured on a screen. And I hope your nervous system finds moments of rest and your heart remembers that it belongs. You are connected, you do matter, and may you continue returning again and again to the safest place you'll ever know your own embodied presence. I hope this episode was awesome for you guys. Take a moment off social media, it'll help. I'll see you next week. Bye.