The High Cost of Dopamine: Finding My Way and Helping Others Back from Overwhelm, Addiction, and Cortisol Burnout
“The world is unstable, but your nervous system doesn’t have to be.” We cannot scroll our way to peace or numb our way to clarity. There’s another way back — one that begins in the body, in presence.
Original handprinted photograph by Bren Littleton, c. 2020
I have been watching it unfold quietly for years now, both in my clients and in myself. It did not arrive with flashing lights or some dramatic event. It crept in during the long, uncertain months of the pandemic. What began as understandable coping — extra hours online, binge-watching, endless scrolling, even small dopamine hits from overworking or completing household tasks — slowly became something else entirely.
It became a pattern. A reflex. And for many, a quiet addiction to overstimulation and distraction.
Understanding Dopamine Addiction
Dopamine, at its core, is not the villain. It is a naturally occurring neurotransmitter essential for motivation, learning, and reward. But, as Dr. Anna Lembke explains in Dopamine Nation, our modern environment is designed to exploit this system. Every notification ping, streaming recommendation, targeted ad, or endless scroll plays on our innate reward circuitry, flooding us with anticipation, novelty, and the urge for more.
During those early pandemic days, many of us lost familiar anchors like routines, community, movement, and a sense of control. In the absence of those grounding structures, these small dopamine surges became substitutes for regulation and meaning. I saw it in my clients, especially those already wired for high achievement or prone to anxiety. They could not stop reaching for the next task, the next scroll, the next caffeine hit, the next productivity spike.
I recognized it because I have been there too.
The Downstream Impact: Cortisol Dumping
This constant dopamine pursuit is not sustainable. Over time, the nervous system burns out. We do not just feel restless or overstimulated. We become dysregulated at a physiological level.
That is where cortisol comes in.
Cortisol, often called the stress hormone, is part of the body’s survival design. In short bursts, it helps us navigate immediate threats. But when dopamine addiction keeps us in a loop of craving, overstimulation, and fragmented focus, the body reads it as a chronic, low-grade threat. Cortisol levels stay elevated, flooding our system. Dr. Gabor Maté calls this the body’s quiet rebellion. It is the moment when, as he writes in When the Body Says No, our physiology begins to break down after months or years of unmet emotional needs and nervous system overload.
The signs are everywhere. Brain fog clouds even simple tasks. Fatigue lingers no matter how much sleep we get. Our thoughts loop in anxious spirals, but emotionally we feel numb. We crave sugar, caffeine, or more stimulation. We struggle to be present with loved ones. And life begins to feel increasingly unworkable.
After the COVID lockdowns, I watched this dynamic unfold with nearly every client. In those first waves of uncertainty, there was confusion and a scramble to adapt. We were trying to figure out what was happening, how long it would last, and how to maintain some version of normal life. School shifted to screens. Work went remote. Families juggled isolation, childcare, and the exhaustion of long-term uncertainty. The nervous system was flooded with unrelenting stress, yet tethered to technology for information, connection, and distraction. In many ways, those early pandemic years gave us permission to remain plugged in, to soothe ourselves with endless scrolling, to overwork, or to numb the edges of our anxiety through devices.
But now, nearly three years later, I see the next version of that same nervous system overwhelm. It is different, yet carries the same intensity. We are no longer dealing with the unknown timeline of a virus, but instead facing the unraveling of social stability itself. The erosion of civil rights. Expanding war. Economic uncertainty. And the undeniable truth that democracy itself feels fragile. There is a quiet, creeping sense that nothing is safe, and many have defaulted back into patterns of distraction, dissociation, or compulsive behavior, just to cope.
The external world is chaotic. The internal world mirrors that chaos. In the face of so much uncertainty, brain fog has become its own form of survival, numbing the nervous system just enough to carry on. But numbing only works for so long before the nervous system fragments further.
It is important to say this clearly. You are not wrong for needing diversion. You are not weak for reaching for your phone, scrolling, zoning out, or burying yourself in tasks. For a time, those behaviors soothed the nervous system. During the height of the pandemic, distraction bought us temporary relief. It softened the edges of uncertainty when the world made no sense. But that particular diversion has quickly run its course.
Millions of people have reached the end of their ability to tolerate the consequences of dopamine addiction. The evidence is everywhere. Our bodies are carrying excess weight. Sleep is fractured or elusive. Our minds struggle to focus, and our sense of long-term satisfaction feels distant, if not entirely absent.
We have been dealing with immediate crises through avoidance. But the price is adding up. As I remind my clients, we cannot distract our way to peace. We cannot scroll our way into clarity. At some point, we must consciously Avoid the Avoidance.
Avoiding the avoidance does not mean harsh self-correction. It means slowing down, recognizing the impulse to numb, and choosing a different path toward presence. It means acknowledging the tension of our time without abandoning ourselves to distraction. And most importantly, it means reconnecting to a higher purpose.
For some, that purpose is a return to New Health. Healing the body, regulating the nervous system, and building strength after years of depletion. For others, it is a pursuit of New Wealth. Not just financial gain, but the wealth of time, energy, and clarity that comes from dismantling burnout and addiction cycles. Many feel called to New Care, cultivating more compassionate relationships with themselves and others. And woven through all of it is the vision of New Fair, creating lives and communities grounded in equity, dignity, and meaningful contribution.
Joe Dispenza and Rewiring the Self
Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work has been a vital guide when clients feel trapped in these cycles. In Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself, Dispenza explains how our thoughts, behaviors, and emotions create neural pathways. Over time, those pathways lock us into familiar patterns, even when those patterns keep us anxious, overstimulated, or addicted to dopamine hits.
Dispenza writes, "Your personality creates your personal reality. If you want to change your life, you have to change your thoughts, feelings, and behaviors."
But change does not happen through force or willpower alone. It requires interrupting the habits that no longer serve us and learning to stay with the discomfort that follows when we stop reaching for distractions.
This discomfort is where most people struggle. But it is also where the deeper healing begins. And here is where Gabor Maté’s work and Jungian depth psychology provide essential tools.
The Practice of Discomfort: Returning to Felt Experience
Maté teaches that healing is not about numbing our discomfort or pushing through it. Healing is about returning to the body and feeling what is real, even when it feels overwhelming. In his words, "The first step is to befriend your own experience. To feel what you feel, know what you know, and see what you see."
This practice often feels contradictory. On the one hand, there is a pull to numb, to reach for distraction, to avoid. On the other, there is a deeper, quieter part of us calling for presence. Carl Jung described this process as holding the tension of the opposites.
Jung believed that growth comes not by choosing one side over the other, but by learning to tolerate contradictory truths coexisting. In recovering from dopamine addiction, this might look like:
Feeling the discomfort of stillness while trusting it will not consume you
Noticing the craving for stimulation while choosing presence instead
Acknowledging both the fear of change and the longing for peace
In depth psychology, we visualize this as the container, an imaginal space where opposing feelings and instincts can exist together without one side overpowering the other. Over time, this practice teaches the nervous system that it is possible to sit with complexity, that we do not have to resolve or flee every uncomfortable moment.
A Way Back: Practical Steps Toward Integration
Recovering from dopamine addiction and the cascade of cortisol burnout is not linear. But it begins with small, steady choices and a lot of compassion. This is the process I use with my clients and have leaned on myself:
1. Awareness Over Autopilot
Start by noticing your patterns. When do you reach for stimulation? What feelings arise when you resist the urge? Keep track without judgment. Awareness creates space for choice.
2. Reclaim the Body
Our nervous systems cannot heal in constant disconnection. One of the first steps is to come back to the body through sensation, breath, and grounded presence.
For many of my clients, this begins with the simplest anchors. Feeling your feet on the floor. Placing a hand on your chest and noticing the rhythm of your breath. Allowing the natural weight of your body to settle into a chair. These small moments rebuild the mind-body relationship that overstimulation and distraction tend to fragment.
Dr. Arielle Schwartz, a leader in trauma-informed care, offers an invaluable resource through her Polyvagal-Informed Yoga programs. Her work combines gentle movement, breath awareness, and somatic mindfulness to help regulate the nervous system and cultivate a sense of safety from within.
Equally essential is reconnecting with the natural world. Technology overstimulates the mind and fractures attention, but nature restores coherence. Walking outside without a device. Sitting under trees. Feeling the wind or sunlight on your skin. Listening to birdsong or the quiet rhythm of water. These simple acts recalibrate the body’s sense of safety and belonging.
Nature is not only a refuge. It is a teacher. The cycles, the pace, the stillness of the environment remind us how to be in the world without the constant hum of technology.
3. Regulate the Nervous System
Engage practices that activate your parasympathetic system. Slow breathing, extended exhales, gentle touch, or even humming help signal safety to your body. Dr. Stephen Porges' Polyvagal Theory reminds us that safety is felt in the body, not thought into being.
4. Conscious Discomfort Tolerance
Notice the craving for distraction and the longing for clarity coexisting within you. Visualize both, and practice sitting with the discomfort instead of reacting to it.
In my work with clients, this is where we slow down enough to track the moment before the automatic behavior. I often ask clients to keep a journal for one week, specifically noting the times they feel pulled to their devices. Write down what you notice happening inside you in the seconds before you pick up the phone, open your laptop, or reach for your tablet.
Ask yourself: What am I feeling right now? What urge is present that makes me want to distract myself? Is there tension, boredom, anxiety, loneliness, or something harder to name?
After one week of noticing and writing, most people discover at least three core emotional patterns driving the addiction cycle. Three feelings they have been working hard to avoid, but that need to be felt to break free.
The moment you name the feeling, you shift from unconscious reaction to conscious choice. You begin building the capacity to sit with discomfort, to witness both the urge to numb and the deeper need for presence.
5. Rewiring with Intention
Introduce low-stimulation, meaningful activities such as reading, creative expression, nature walks, or real conversations. These help rebuild sustainable reward circuits grounded in presence.
6. Connection Heals
Isolation fuels addiction patterns. Safe community, whether through therapy, somatic coaching, or trusted friends in personal creativity, such as playing music together, meeting in art classes or writing groups, helps anchor your nervous system and accelerates healing. Social connection is one of the most powerful and natural sources of healthy dopamine. Conversations, shared laughter, physical affection, and eye contact all activate reward pathways while simultaneously lowering cortisol. Being with pets, both domestic and wild, offers another profound layer of connection. The rhythmic presence of a purring cat, the loyal energy of a dog, the powerful mirroring of a nine-hundred pound horse, or simply observing birds and wildlife brings the nervous system into a regulated state of calm engagement. Numerous studies confirm that interaction with animals reduces stress hormones, elevates mood, and increases oxytocin, the bonding hormone. There is a wonderful exercise of learning to synchronize breathing with an animal, to reach a state of entrainment. Bringing entrainment into daily practice opens up intentional space for receiving organic influences from non-human life forces that deeply widens the perspective of what options exist that are valuable alternatives to bonding with technology.
In addition, reconnecting with the plant world is an ancient and increasingly recycled healing modality. Many individuals find nervous system coherence through tending to plants, caring for a garden, or even speaking with indoor plants—practices long rooted in indigenous and earth-based traditions. Research shows that communicating with plants, whether through observation, nurturing, or dialogue, cultivates mindfulness, reduces stress, and restores the sense of interconnection vital for human well-being.
Final Reflections
It is understandable that many of us have turned to avoidance to cope. The world feels uncertain, our nervous systems have been pushed beyond their limits, and distraction offered short-term comfort. But those habits have run their course. The body reveals the truth through fatigue, restless nights, scattered focus, and a quiet ache for grounding and meaning.
Healing begins when we meet ourselves where we are, without judgment, and become curious about what lives beneath the surface of our distraction. Our nervous systems are wired not only for survival, but for restoration, for coherence, for connection. They remember how to return to steadiness, even after years of overstimulation.
The Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue reminds us that beauty is not something distant or unattainable, but present within the world that surrounds us and within the hidden places of the self. He writes, “The human soul is hungry for beauty. When we experience the beautiful, there is a sense of homecoming.”
Sometimes beauty arrives quietly, as in the way sunlight touches the edges of a room, in the small resilience of breath, in the stillness of being present, even in discomfort. Sometimes it waits patiently in nature, reminding us of the rhythm and belonging we carry beneath the noise.
Avoiding the avoidance is not a rigid task, but a gentle, courageous choice to stay curious about life. To move toward the self with patience, with compassion, and with the new strength that comes from choosing presence over escape.
We are not simply returning to ourselves. We are healing toward ourselves . . . slowly, with curiosity, with grace, all the while rediscovering the quiet strength that lives in being fully here.
Narrative Essay by Bren Littleton
Tin Flea Press c. 2025
Original handprinted photograph by Bren Littleton, c. 2020