I don’t know who needs to hear this, but we were never meant to know this much stuff. Not all the time. Not about everything. And certainly not with a push notification screaming, “BREAKING: Something You Can’t Do Anything About Is Happening Right Now!!!” every 37 seconds.
There was a time when news came in finite doses: 6:00 PM, a gravely voiced anchor, and a half hour of headlines before dinner. Now? I can’t eat a sandwich without being served six global catastrophes, four political meltdowns, and a TikTok trend that somehow ends in emergency room visits. It’s like the world decided, “Let’s pour boiling chaos directly into your frontal lobe—and make you feel guilty for not reading the 83-piece thinkpiece thread about it.”
As someone who actually likes being informed (former nursing administrator, lifelong politics nerd, minor in political science—hello), I hate to say it, but: I’m tired. The news is exhausting. It’s like watching a building catch fire, and instead of calling the fire department, someone hands you a match and says, “Your move.”
When Every Headline Is a Heart Attack
Here’s what I’ve learned after a few years of trying to stay woke without emotionally combusting: the 24/7 news cycle is not built for human consumption. It’s built for rage-clicks, ad revenue, and keeping you juuuuust anxious enough to keep scrolling. It’s like emotional fast food—cheap, addicting, and guaranteed to give you heartburn.
We used to process things. Remember that? Like, sit with them. Think. Grieve. React. Now? Something awful happens at 9:00 AM and by 9:07 we’re expected to have a perfectly crafted take, a matching infographic, and a Venmo link for reparations.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t care. I’m saying we weren’t meant to metabolize everything in real time while also replying to emails, drinking enough water, and remembering our own birthdays.
My (Flawed But Sincere) Coping Strategies
So how do I keep up without curling into a ball of despair while muttering, “No notes app apology will save us now”?
- I Read—On Purpose, Not By Accident
I stopped doomscrolling. I pick 2-3 sources I trust, and I go to them, like a grown adult with a browser history. I don’t wait for chaos to come find me on my feed. It always does—but at least now I meet it on my own terms, coffee in hand. - I Don’t Watch Cable News (Like, Ever)
If you’re still watching cable news, baby… blink twice if you need help. I swear those shows are written by the same people who make reality dating competitions. They pit talking heads against each other, scream over each other, and somehow make a 3-minute segment feel like a hostage situation. - I Check In, Then Tap Out
I give myself a time limit. If I’ve read the same story four different ways, it’s time to move on. No one needs five angles on the same dumpster fire. It’s still burning. I get it. - I Laugh (Because If I Don’t, I’ll Cry)
Satire is not just entertainment—it’s survival. I love a good John Oliver segment or a hilarious meme that reminds me we’re all trying to navigate late-stage capitalism with a nervous system designed for spotting saber-toothed tigers. - I Talk To Actual People
Yes, sometimes that means small talk at H-E-B. Sometimes it means emotionally unloading on Matthew while we both pretend we’re only watching Love Is Blind ironically. Either way, I remind myself that the world is still full of people—not just headlines.
Finding the Line Between Awareness and Agony
The truth is, the news cycle is designed to keep us on edge. But constant edge-living isn’t noble. It’s unsustainable. There’s a difference between being informed and being consumed.
I want to be the kind of person who shows up, who stays engaged, who gives a damn. But I also want to be the kind of person who can sleep. Who can laugh. Who can write a blog post without needing a Valium and a séance.
So if you, like me, are overwhelmed by the never-ending, ever-worsening, soul-shriveling deluge of modern media: take a breath. Take a beat. You’re allowed. The world will still be here when you come back—probably on fire, but hey, what else is new?
And if all else fails? Do what I do: put on some sweatpants, cuddle your jealous Chihuahua daughter, and scream into the void via a very well-written blog post.