Breaking the Rage Habit: A Rational Path Back to Sanity
Outrage is addictive. It gives us the illusion of power, of clarity, of action—but too often, it just leaves us drained and distracted. In a world that profits from our fury, choosing calm isn’t passive. It’s revolutionary. This post explores how to recognize the cycle of rage, gently step out of it, and reclaim your own attention, one breath at a time.
It’s surprisingly easy to get addicted to outrage.
We might not think of it that way—most of us imagine addiction as something involving substances, not scrolling. But outrage is a loop. A spike of adrenaline. A flood of certainty. And then the crash that makes us crave another hit.
You feel the pull: Did you see what they said now? Can you believe this? How is this real?
It’s exhausting. And the worst part is, half the time the thing we’re mad about isn’t even true—or it’s been stripped of context and designed to rile us up.
We weren’t built for this much anger.
So here’s the question I’ve been asking myself: What happens if we stop feeding the beast?
1. Recognize the Pattern
Outrage feels righteous. It tricks us into thinking we’re doing something—defending the good, calling out the bad, standing for what’s right. But often, we’re just spinning our wheels and burning ourselves out.
The first step is catching ourselves in the act. Noticing when we’re being pulled into the whirlpool again. Ask yourself: Is this worth my energy? Who gains from me staying angry?
Spoiler: it’s usually not you.
2. Curate Your Inputs
You don’t have to follow the people who make your blood boil. Even if they’re “on your side.” Especially if they’re always upset about something.
It’s okay to unfollow the drama. It doesn’t mean you don’t care—it means you’re choosing your peace. Try following people who inform, question, and reflect instead of just perform.
3. Replace Reactivity with Curiosity
If your first reaction is “This is outrageous!”, try pausing. Take a breath. Ask questions. Get curious.
Sometimes, the loudest stories are built on shaky ground. Look for nuance. Look for context. And when you find out you were wrong about something? Celebrate that. It means you’re still learning.
4. Pause Before You Post
Posting while angry is like texting while drunk—rarely a great idea.
Write the post if you need to vent, but don’t hit “send.” Wait five minutes. Walk away. You might come back and delete it. Or rewrite it. Or realize it didn’t need to exist in the first place.
Your peace of mind is more valuable than a moment of digital applause.
5. Rewire the Reward System
Your brain’s used to getting little “likes” for the spicy take, the clapback, the outrage share. But you can reprogram it.
Find joy in being thoughtful. Celebrate calm. Post something kind or quietly insightful. That feeling you get when you help someone see something differently—that’s the new dopamine.
6. Reclaim Your Attention
Algorithms are designed to hijack your brain. The more upset you are, the longer you stay. The longer you stay, the more ads you see. You are the product.
Reclaiming your attention is a radical act. Go for a walk. Watch clouds. Read a book. Stare at the ceiling and think your own thoughts. There’s power in unplugging.
7. Choose Peace on Purpose
You can’t control what the world throws at you. But you can choose how you carry it.
Calm isn’t complacency. It’s clarity. It’s the ability to act without being a pawn in someone else’s outrage machine.
We’re not powerless. We’re not algorithms.
We’re human. Let’s act like it.
Why I’m Not on Social Media (and Why I Still Exist Anyway)
There was a time when social media felt like connection—like shouting into the void and hearing someone shout back, “Same.” But over time, the void got noisier, angrier, and strangely performative. What started as sharing became branding. Conversations became content. And the scroll became a sort of trance I didn’t ask for.
So, I left.
Well—mostly.
I’m still on Bluesky as Rational Human Being, drifting through its calm, feral weirdness like a raccoon at a quiet campground. It feels more like a digital zine than a dopamine slot machine, and that’s good enough for now.
But the rest? Gone.
No Facebook. No Instagram. No endless highlight reels or algorithmically curated doom spirals. Just this little corner of the internet, and the occasional celestial outburst from a fire-breathing unicorn.
Ambermane, a noble and absurd fire-breathing unicorn, (much like humanity), created by Astraea,
And somehow, I still exist.
Turns out you don’t have to constantly post to matter. You can step outside the feed, build quietly, think slowly, and still be part of the world. Maybe not the trending part—but maybe that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.