A New Year Awakening

Reflections on Anna Lembke’s Dopamine Nation and Living With Intention in 2026

I received the book Dopamine Nation during the holidays, one of those quiet gifts that doesn’t arrive with excitement or expectation, but somehow knows exactly when it’s needed. I started reading it in the slower moments between celebrations, and almost immediately, I couldn’t put it down. Not because it was dramatic or shocking, but because it felt uncomfortably familiar.

Reading it at the end of the year, when life naturally slows just enough to notice things, the book felt less like a critique of addiction and more like a reflection of modern life. Of my life. Of how easy it has become to reach for comfort, stimulation, or distraction without even realizing we’re doing it.

When Pleasure Stops Feeling Like Pleasure

One of the ideas that stayed with me most is Lembke’s explanation of how the brain constantly tries to stay in balance. Pleasure and pain are not separate systems; they are connected. When we push too hard toward pleasure—constant stimulation, constant reward—the brain quietly pushes back. What shows up on the other side isn’t always obvious pain. Sometimes it’s restlessness. Numbness. A low-level dissatisfaction that doesn’t quite have a name.

What struck me was how normal this has become. Phones, social media, work, productivity, even things we label as “healthy” can start to function less as choices and more as automatic response. Not because they’re bad, but because they are always available.

The book doesn’t ask us to judge these behaviors. It asks us to notice them.

The Question That Lingers

As I kept reading, I found myself pausing often, not because the book was dense, but because it kept asking a quiet question in the background—one I couldn’t ignore:

What am I reaching for most often? And what thing would be hardest for me to stop?

That question feels especially relevant as we step into 2026. Addiction, in the way Lembke describes it, doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like checking the phone without thinking. Staying busy so we don’t have to sit still. Chasing productivity to feel worthy. Wanting validation to feel reassured. These aren’t failures of character; they are patterns of relief.

The shift happens when a behavior stops being a choice and starts becoming the way we regulate our emotions.

Subtle Compulsions in a Modern World

What makes Dopamine Nation so powerful is how it removes the illusion that addiction only belongs to extremes. In our world, compulsions are often disguised as success, connection, or self-care. We don’t always ask whether something brings us peace—we ask whether it keeps us occupied.

And yet, the cost shows up quietly. Less tolerance for boredom. Less patience. Less ability to enjoy simple things. Life starts to feel flatter, even when it’s full.

Reading this at the start of a new year made me realize how rarely we question the pace we keep, or the habits we normalize, simply because “everyone does it.”

A Different Way to Enter 2026

The book doesn’t offer strict rules or dramatic solutions. What it offers instead is awareness—and permission to pause. Lembke talks about creating space between impulse and action, and how even small moments of restraint can help the brain recalibrate.

As we begin 2026, this reframes the idea of resolutions. Instead of asking what we want to add or improve, the more honest question might be:

What could I step back from? What do I use to escape discomfort? And what might happen if I stayed present instead?

This isn’t about removing pleasure from life. It’s about restoring sensitivity to it.

Ending Where We Begin

By the time I finished Dopamine Nation, the holidays were over, but something had shifted. The book didn’t make me want to do more. It made me want to live more deliberately. To notice my patterns. To question my automatic responses. To choose, instead of react.

As we step into 2026, that feels like the right kind of intention. In a world designed to keep us reaching, wanting, and scrolling, the ability to pause and ask why may be the most meaningful resolution we make.

And maybe the real question isn’t how to become better—but how to become more present with the life we’re already living.