After a long, hectic, and overwhelming day, I mindlessly scrolled through my phone until 2 am. I knew I was tired and my mind was getting foggy, but I chose not to sleep. Ironically, when I finally decided to sleep, these thoughts kept me awake late into the night. I questioned why I chose to stay awake by scrolling until the odd hours.

“Was I also a victim of digital addiction?” or “Was I just self-soothing?” I questioned myself.

“And what even is the difference?” One may ask.

Well, just like a road has speedbreakers to limit speed and reduce the chances of accidents, our brain has evolved its own speedbreakers in self-soothing behaviours. They offer comfort and ease stress in the moment. When life feels overwhelming, people instinctively turn to self-soothing practices—those small, intentional acts that calm the nervous system and provide temporary relief.

Let me explain with an example. In my years of counselling practice, I have observed people engaging in many activities to cope with stress, overwhelm, and life in general. Just like a crying child sucks on their thumb to pacify themselves from crying, adults engage in a lot of seemingly simple habits, knowingly or unknowingly, to reduce the unease. For some, it may be sipping a warm cup of tea, listening to music, eating that favourite dessert, or, in my case, scrolling through the phone watching funny videos. However, these seemingly harmless habits may develop into addiction.

At its core, addiction and self-soothing are not very different but somewhat interconnected. One grows out of the other.

Addiction is often seen as a destructive habit. But, once we dig deeper, we will find that addiction is deeply tied to the same basic human need for comfort and relief. What was once a simple act of getting through a rough day can become the very thing that takes control of a person’s time, priorities, and even their entire personality.

Although addiction is often seen as a choice, laziness, or simply a lack of willpower, it is frequently an effort to quiet the inner critic, silence the replay of trauma, or bridge the gap between who they are and who they were told to be. People only observe the end result—the disordered routines, wasted hours, debts, or collapsing relationships. They seldom see the beginning, which was often nothing more than a weary heart seeking a place to rest.

Once loosening the day’s tension, the glass of wine after work begins to demand more frequent pours. The comforting ritual of online shopping for “just one little thing” turns into a cycle of boxes stacking up at the door. The late-night scroll, meant to numb the day’s exhaustion, stretches into endless hours, consuming sleep, clarity, and vitality.

I remember a client once telling me, “I didn’t start smoking because I loved cigarettes. I started because I hated my loneliness.” That single sentence captures what many textbooks on addiction cannot. The cigarette did not represent the real need; it was only the entry point. But repeated over time, this entry point became so familiar that it felt like home, leaving the person unable to picture life without it.

But here is where the distinction matters: not every self-soothing act becomes an addiction. The line is crossed when the behaviour stops being a choice and becomes a compulsion. Self-soothing is conscious, deliberate, and balanced. Addiction, however, sneaks in when we can no longer choose, it begins to choose for us.

One must also be mindful of the consequences. True self-soothing leaves us feeling replenished and better. Reading a book for half an hour, calling a friend, stretching your body: these acts help us reconnect with ourselves. Conversely, addiction often leaves us feeling emptier than before, with shame layered over the original distress. It is like drinking salt water in a bid to quench thirst; the more we drink, the thirstier we become.

If self-soothing is the body’s natural attempt at survival, then addiction is simply survival gone awry. The nervous system’s emergency alarm gets stuck in the “on” position. Condemning a person for their addiction without understanding the role it plays in their emotional ecosystem is like blaming a drowning person for gasping for air.

So what can be done? The first step is awareness. Naming our behaviours for what they are is a simple yet powerful act. When I lay awake after scrolling until 2 am, instead of scolding myself, “Why are you so weak?” I asked, “What are you trying to soothe?” That question opened a space between me and the behaviour, a space wide enough to step into with choice.

It is easier to replace addiction with something else rather than trying to eliminate it. So, try substituting. Our nervous system will always crave soothing. What we can do is gradually replace destructive self-soothing with nourishing ones.

Instead of looking to ease stress with endless scrolling, it could be eased with journaling, a mindful walk, or a few minutes of deep breathing. These acts may seem small, but they remind the body that not all comfort comes with a hidden cost.

One of the most striking discoveries about addiction was revealed through the well-known Rat Park experiment. It is now widely recognised that isolation often exacerbates both distress and addiction. Turning to a trusted friend, family member, or counsellor replaces the empty comfort of compulsive behaviours with the more meaningful comfort of being seen and understood.

As I write this, I still find myself reaching for my phone on late nights. But now, instead of labeling it purely as “bad” or “addictive,” I pause. I remind myself that this is my body seeking relief. Then, with gentleness, I ask: Is this the relief I really need? Sometimes, I still scroll. Sometimes, I put the phone aside and let the silence cradle me instead.

Ultimately, humans are trying to survive in a turbulent world. Our habits, whether healing or harmful, are the language of that survival. The challenge is not to silence the language but to learn to speak it more wisely, and to find comfort without losing ourselves to it.