As tech and gaming addiction consume millions, few voices are as urgently needed—or widely trusted—as Dr. Alok Kanojia. Known to millions online as Dr. K, he blends neuroscience, spirituality, and firsthand experience to tackle one of the most misunderstood crises of our time. In this interview, he opens up about his descent into gaming addiction, how meditation saved his life, how to help with gaming addiction, and more.
Innovation & Tech Today: You’ve spoken openly about your past struggles with gaming addiction and dropping out of college. How did that experience lead you to explore meditation and spirituality and become a psychiatrist?
Dr. Alok M. Kanojia: My journey started with video game addiction. I was addicted to video games, and my parents were wonderful—loving, caring parents. They’re both doctors, actually, so they understood medicine and, to a certain degree, addiction, but they were just outgunned.
Technology has become so invasive and incredibly addictive. Where do we learn how to parent? From our parents. Every parent has had to deal with concerns around addiction, but those usually start in high school or as teenagers. Now, parents deal with this stuff at the age of one, two, or three. There’s never been a parenting generation that has had to deal with such a pervasive and addictive substance infiltrating every corner of our lives.
I ended up basically failing out of college. After one year, I was on academic probation. My parents tried everything—they tried tough love, they tried love-love—but nothing was working.
Almost dropping out of college was my rock bottom. I was this “gifted kid” who’d jumped grades, coasted on raw intellect, and then found myself failing out. My dad told me, “Pack a bag—go to India.”
So, I landed in Bangalore in 2003 alone with no phone and no plan. I walked into an ashram with nothing but shame and desperation. For the first two weeks, I hated it—I cried every day, called home begging for a ticket back. But I stuck it out. Over time, I met a fellow student who began guiding me through meditation practices.
That life-or-death kind of discipline awakened me to two things.
First, the power of subjective experience. Western science teaches us what works “on average,” but I needed to know myself.
Second, the missing curriculum on “you.” We learn algebra and chemistry but almost nothing about our own brains, willpower, or emotions. In India, I learned to map my inner landscape—how to regulate my heart rate, calm my mind, and even bathe my lungs with yogic cleansing techniques.
When I came back to the U.S., I finished undergrad, went to medical school, trained in psychiatry, did neuroscience research, and brought those Eastern insights into my clinical work.
Now, I help people understand that they are the instrument—how to master focus, transcend destructive habits, and transform an “average” life into an extraordinary one. That journey all began with my failure and the decision to sit still, listen, and learn from my mind.
Those seven years of studying to become a monk really helped me overcome my addiction. But I ended up meeting my wife, so the whole monk thing didn’t work out. I decided to go to med school, trained at Harvard, and was on faculty there for a couple of years.
Around 2015, I asked my mentors what they thought about video game addiction. They weren’t too sure about it. They’d never played a video game.
That’s when I started focusing on tech addiction and combining my lived experience with Eastern concepts like mindfulness. My goal was to help gamers, particularly younger versions of myself—teenagers, young adults, and 25-year-olds living in their parents’ basements who hadn’t had a job and played video games all day.
As we grew in that community, their parents started reaching out too. Sometimes, kids would walk by during our coaching calls with parents and say, “Wait a second, is that Dr. K?” Parents would ask, “How do you know who that is?”
At the time, there wasn’t even a formal diagnosis. The World Health Organization has a kind of prospective diagnosis. I started just talking to gamers, working with young men in their late teens and early 20s, struggling to get life on track.
Eventually, I started streaming on Twitch, providing education about technology, how your brain works, and how to control your mind. We became the fastest-growing stream on Twitch for about three months. Now, we’re watched by five to six million gamers a month. Parents started reaching out to us, saying, “Hey, my son or daughter is having huge problems. I don’t know what to do.” So, we started helping parents as well.
I&T Today: You’ve called excessive tech usage an “invasive species” for the brain. Can you explain how this affects the brain and emotions?
Kanojia: The reason I call it an “invasive species” is because that’s what it feels like. Video games, apps, algorithms—they’ve cropped up everywhere. And the problem isn’t just addiction anymore—it’s attention, emotional regulation, even basic motivation.
So what happens? We get overstimulated. The brain is constantly chasing dopamine. And when you live in that environment long enough, the brain adapts by becoming numb to it. Things that used to bring pleasure—reading, being outside, friendships—don’t feel as rewarding.
That leads to emotional flattening. A lack of motivation. A sense of meaninglessness. And for gamers, especially younger ones, that shows up as depression, anxiety, anger, or complete disengagement. It’s not because they’re broken—it’s because they’re adapting to a system that was never built with their well-being in mind.
I&T Today: In your view, how can someone tell when gaming has become a mental health issue?
Kanojia: It’s not about how many hours someone is playing. It’s about what gaming is doing to the rest of their life. Is it crowding out school, work, relationships, and hygiene? Are they using it to avoid problems? Are they more irritable when they’re not playing?
If you’re a parent or friend, don’t start with control. Start with curiosity. Try asking: “What do you like about this game?” or “How does it make you feel when you’re not playing?” Often, what comes out is stress, loneliness, or feeling like they’re failing in life.
I&T Today: How does Healthy Gamer offer support?
Kanojia: We offer peer coaching—real people who’ve been through similar struggles. It’s not therapy, but it’s grounded in structure, accountability, and compassion. We also create content that educates people on the why behind their behavior. Finally, our book and guides give parents tools to rebuild healthy relationships with technology.
We’re not anti-tech. We’re pro-intentional use.
I&T Today: What makes your eight-week plan different from restriction-based approaches?
Kanojia: Most approaches focus on restriction—cut screen time, set parental controls. That builds resentment and power struggles. What we do is focused on restraint. The idea is to help kids develop the ability to manage their gaming from the inside out.
I&T Today: What does a “healthy gamer” actually look like to you?
Kanojia: Someone who enjoys games but isn’t using them to avoid life. They can stop when they need to, prioritize school or relationships, and use games to connect, not isolate.
Maybe the biggest thing is they have an identity outside of gaming. They know who they are when the screen is off. Games are just one part of their life, not the whole thing.
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