What are “online microtraumas”? How distressing content on social media affects your mental health

One evening, new mum Serene Wong was scrolling through her phone when the mood of her feed shifted abruptly.

One moment, it was the usual mix of lifestyle clips, comedy sketches and style content. The next, her screen filled with videos no new parent wants to see: grieving mothers speaking about babies lost to sudden infant death syndrome, parents recounting the moment they realised their child had a rare disease, or early warning signs of delayed development that they had missed.

The 34-year-old noticed this change in her algorithm after she had welcomed her first child three years back. It started quietly – perhaps just one or two such videos per day. But over the course of the next few weeks, she noticed that she was getting served a steady stream of videos about rare conditions such as Angelman syndrome, warnings about shaken baby syndrome, and content about infant deaths.

Already anxious as a new parent, Serene says the constant stream of worst-case scenarios made her hypervigilant.

“I found myself checking on my sleeping baby every 15 minutes to make sure they were still breathing,” she recalls. “Every movement suddenly felt like it could mean something more serious.”

Months later, when her child was about a year old, the outbreak of war in Gaza brought another wave of distressing content into her feed.

“In between holiday vlogs, I was seeing images of injured children, starving babies, and families buried under rubble,” she says. “One evening, my husband came to bed and saw me sobbing over my phone. He gently told me maybe it was time to stop scrolling.”

Serene’s experience may feel intensely personal, but the pattern behind it is far from unique.

In recent months, several gut-wrenching stories have surged through Singapore’s social media feeds, drawing enormous engagement within hours.

Posts about the drowning of 13-year-old Muhammed Qayyim Daniel Putra Rosli – whose body was recovered from the Kallang River after a day-long search – drew between 20,000 and 40,000 reactions across social media pages run by news outlets.

Similarly, raw footage of the car accident in Chinatown, which claimed the life of a six-year-old girl from Indonesia, also drew hordes of views and shares.

These local tragedies now appear alongside a constant stream of global distress: violent war footage, speculation about escalating geopolitical conflict, and fresh revelations tied to the Epstein files. Each update sparks reactions, comments and shares, ensuring the algorithm keeps pushing them forward.

The pattern is unmistakable. Stories of grief, danger and shock travel farther than almost anything else – which raises an uncomfortable question: Why are we so drawn to them, and why does the feed keep showing us more?

How algorithms amplify distressing content

Part of the answer lies in how social media platforms are built. Tiktok, for instance, says its For You feed recommends videos based on signals such as watch time, likes and shares, according to information from its Help Center. Instagram’s recommendation system similarly ranks posts using artificial intelligence to estimate what users are most likely to engage with, according to the platform’s guide.

The feeds we scroll through are not chronological windows into the world. They are highly curated systems powered by predictive algorithms that constantly learn from our behaviour. Every pause, swipe, comment or share becomes a signal – data that helps platforms predict what will keep us watching.

And few things command attention like tragedy. Stories that shock, anger or sadden people tend to provoke strong reactions. The algorithm reads those reactions as value. Engagement rises, and the story is pushed to more feeds.

Why the brain is wired to pay attention to distress

Algorithms may amplify the cycle, but the instinct to pay attention comes from somewhere more fundamental: the human brain.

Associate Professor Sharon Sung from Duke-NUS Medical School’s Health Services Research and Population Health programme says the brain evolved to prioritise threats.

When people encounter frightening information, the brain’s amygdala – its early warning system – reacts almost instantly. It signals the hypothalamus to release stress hormones, such as adrenaline and cortisol, priming the body for action.

Brain regions linked to emotional awareness, including the insula and anterior cingulate cortex, sharpen our attention to the threat, while activity in the prefrontal cortex – the area responsible for calm reasoning – begins to decrease. The result is a body that feels alert and uneasy, even though the danger exists only on a screen.

“That is why it can be harder to disengage or think rationally when we are confronted with threatening content,” she says.

Psychologists call this “negativity bias” – the brain’s tendency to prioritise threats over neutral or positive information.

“From an evolutionary perspective, missing a threat carried far greater consequences than overlooking something pleasant,” says Prof Sung. “Our brains therefore became especially sensitive to signals of danger.”

That sensitivity helps explain why emotionally charged content captures attention so easily online.

The psychological toll of exposure to distressing content

However, constant repeated exposure to distressing content carries psychological costs.

Annabelle Chow, founder of Annabelle Psychology, says the body often reacts before the conscious mind catches up. “When we watch violent or distressing content, the brain responds as though it is encountering a potential threat,” she says.

Even when viewers are physically safe, the nervous system can slip into a mild fight-or-flight state. Stress hormones rise, vigilance increases and the body remains subtly on alert.

Repeated exposure can leave what Annabelle calls “emotional residue”. People may feel irritable, fatigued or emotionally heavy after consuming distressing material, sometimes without connecting those feelings to what they have seen online. Sleep may suffer as upsetting details replay late into the night.

The effects can surface in small ways – a vague guilt while comfortably ordering dinner, second-guessing where your money goes with every purchase, or a sadness that is hard to explain. Images seen hours earlier can quietly colour the rest of the day.

Another pattern is compulsive checking. People promise themselves one more update, but keep scrolling in search of closure, even when the information leaves them feeling worse.

Over time, constant exposure to violent or catastrophic news can distort perceptions of risk, making danger feel more common than it actually is.

Are we equipped to self-regulate?

This raises a deeper question: Are we equipped to absorb the emotional weight of tragedies unfolding across the world?

In professions where trauma exposure is unavoidable, psychological support is built into the job. Emergency responders such as paramedics and firefighters are often trained to cope with the psychological toll of traumatic incidents. One widely used approach is Critical Incident Stress Management, a structured crisis-intervention framework. The model was developed by the International Critical Incident Stress Foundation to help first responders process distressing events.

In Singapore, the Singapore Civil Defence Force provides peer-support officers and counselling services as part of its mental resilience programmes. Officers in the Singapore Police Force can access welfare and psychological support units to manage operational stress.

Journalists covering war zones and disasters receive trauma-awareness training through programmes such as those run by the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma. Humanitarian responders are often trained in Psychological First Aid, a crisis-support framework developed by organisations including the World Health Organization.

Ordinary folk like us receive no such preparation, even as violent crimes, disasters and war footage appear on our screens daily. Most simply scroll, absorb and move on, assuming that putting the phone down or sleeping it off will be enough. And as we all know by now – it’s not.

How to protect your mental well-being online

Disengaging from the news entirely is not the answer. Instead, Annabelle says people should set clearer boundaries around how they consume it.

“Decide on specific times to check the news rather than dipping into the feed repeatedly,” she suggests. “Limiting exposure prevents the stress response from being activated again and again.”

She also recommends curating social media feeds more intentionally. Accounts that focus heavily on graphic details or outrage can quietly increase emotional strain.

“Unfollowing or muting sources that repeatedly trigger distress can help create a healthier digital environment,” she says.

Grounding actions can also help the nervous system settle after exposure to upsetting material – stepping outside, moving the body or speaking to someone trusted.

If reactions such as intrusive thoughts, irritability or sleep disruption persist and begin interfering with daily life, professional support may help.

“If those feelings continue for several weeks and affect work, relationships or daily functioning, it may be helpful to seek professional support,” she advises.

“I still consume this kind of content,” Serene admits. “I think it’s important to stay abreast of the news, to be aware of and remember the atrocities that happen.”

But she now navigates it differently, especially when she notices distressing content beginning to affect her.

“When I catch myself feeling overwhelmed, I’ll stop scrolling and put my phone down,” she says. “I’ll do something grounding, like playing with my children or asking my husband for a hug.

“Sometimes, talking about it helps too,” she adds. “Sharing what I’ve just seen with my friends makes it easier to process and let go of the negative feelings.”

The aim here is not to ignore the world’s tragedies. Awareness matters, but so does protecting the mind that absorbs it.