From Doomer To Bloomer | My Story

A long stretch of “doomer” darkness—marked by anxiety, depression-like numbness, and substance abuse—can be traced less to fate and more to a specific personality pattern: extremely high openness paired with extremely high neuroticism. In this account, the narrator describes recurring existential meltdowns in his twenties and early thirties, then identifies the underlying driver through a personality test (the same one associated with Dr. Jordan Peterson). The key mechanism is a feedback loop: openness fuels fascination with bleak ideas and “red pill” narratives, while neuroticism makes those ideas emotionally destabilizing—pushing him to stare into the abyss even when it worsens his mood.

During the worst periods, he says he used alcohol to manage anxiety and even drank in the morning before leaving for an internship. At home, he would lie in bed with hangovers, browsing online conspiracy content—everything from claims about humanity being doomed to end-times predictions and bizarre allegations about political figures. The emotional pattern wasn’t just sadness; it included “anhedonia,” a state where joy and pleasure disappear, alongside social withdrawal and mental instability. He frames this as a modern version of older existential suffering, comparing it to melancholia described by Soren Kierkegaard and existential pain discussed in Buddhist thought.

The turning point comes from reframing “doomer” attraction to suffering as a kind of masochistic pull toward the world’s imperfections—war, poverty, injustice, and inequality. He labels this as “Weltschmerz” (world-weariness): pain that can become addictive when paired with high openness. Openness supplies the imagination and receptivity needed to absorb dark theories; neuroticism supplies emotional reactivity—anxiety, anger, depression, self-consciousness, and vulnerability—so the mind keeps escalating. In his description, openness and neuroticism fight each other while feeding the same cycle: the more he looks at bleakness, the more reactive he becomes, and the more he seeks out dark material.

Recovery, he says, required shifting what he could control: increasing conscientiousness. He credits a stoic approach—focused on one’s own actions, echoing Epictetus—with practical changes: cleaning up his living environment, using agendas and planning, getting finances in order, exercising regularly, sleeping and waking on schedule, eating healthier, and cutting back substances. Solitude after becoming single also helped him reflect and recalibrate. Over time, order made life more predictable and reduced mental noise, making it easier to stay present.

The result wasn’t a straight line upward. He still experiences dark moments, often tied to lapses in conscientious habits. But he describes a durable improvement: less neediness, less neurotic reactivity, more determination, and greater respect for small joys. The core message is direct—if you relate to being “a doomer,” try building conscientiousness and discipline, because that’s the lever that can turn a dumping ground of chaos into something like bloom.