A friend asked me something recently: “How can you not be an anxious, irritable mess with everything happening in the world? How are people happy?”
It’s an understandable question. There is so much suffering. So much uncertainty. So much bad news, available to us at any moment of the day. We can wake up, reach for our phones, and within minutes be confronted with war, violence, political instability, climate disasters, and people experiencing unimaginable loss.
How are we supposed to know all of that and then go make breakfast, answer emails, take our kids to soccer, meet a friend for dinner, or laugh at something stupid on TV?
How can we feel happy when there is so much suffering and sadness happening at the exact same time?
I think a lot of people are struggling with this question right now. And many seem to land at one of two extremes: turn away completely or immerse themselves in everything.
But I don’t think those are our only choices.
When Staying Informed Becomes Staying Activated
Some people choose to avoid the news altogether. They tune it out, intentionally or otherwise, because they know what consuming it does to them. Depending on who you are and what’s happening, that may or may not feel like an option.
Many of us don’t want to turn away. We care about what’s happening in the world. We want to understand it. We may feel a responsibility to bear witness, to stay informed, or to act when there’s something we can do.
So instead of avoiding, we immerse ourselves.
We read the news throughout the day. We check social media for updates. We follow one terrible story into another, and then another. There is always more information available, and our brains can convince us that if we just keep reading, perhaps we’ll eventually reach some kind of resolution.
Except the resolution rarely comes.
Instead, our nervous systems stay activated. We carry the stories with us into the rest of the day. We become distracted, irritable, anxious, or overwhelmed. And because the news never really stops, neither does the opportunity to feel that way.
At some point, staying informed can quietly turn into staying perpetually distressed.
Caring Doesn’t Require Constant Suffering
I think there’s another place to land.
A place where we stay informed while putting boundaries around when, how often, and how much information we consume. Where we intentionally choose sources rather than allowing an algorithm to decide what our brains will absorb next. Where we recognize when we’ve learned enough for today and allow ourselves to step away.
That doesn’t mean shutting down our emotional reactions either.
We can let ourselves feel sadness when something is heartbreaking. We can feel fear when something is frightening, anger when something feels deeply wrong, and grief when people are suffering. Emotional regulation isn’t about pretending those emotions aren’t there or forcing ourselves to feel positive when we don’t.
It’s about what happens next.
We can notice what we’re feeling and decide what we want to do with it. Maybe there’s an action we want to take. Maybe we donate, volunteer, speak up, reach out to someone, or become involved in something that matters to us. And sometimes there isn’t anything useful we can do in that particular moment.
In those moments, we can allow ourselves to return to our lives.
We don’t have to let every headline dictate the quality of our day. And we don’t have to live in a constant state of hypervigilance to prove that we care.
Finding the Middle Path
This doesn’t mean we’ll never become overwhelmed. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. There are moments when something I read or see hits me particularly hard, and suddenly whatever boundaries I thought I had seem to disappear.
But I’ve also learned that living in a state of perpetual anxiety doesn’t reduce anyone else’s suffering. It just adds another suffering person to the pile.
That idea can be difficult to accept. There can be guilt in feeling happy, enjoying our lives, or turning our attention toward something ordinary when we know that somewhere else, someone is experiencing something terrible.
But joy and concern can exist at the same time. So can gratitude and grief. We can care deeply about what is happening in the world and still laugh with our friends, enjoy our families, focus on our work, or have a genuinely good day.
Many of my clients come to therapy believing they have only two options: ignorance or overwhelm. I don’t think that’s true.
I think there’s a middle path. It takes intention to find it, effort to maintain it, and practice to return to it when we inevitably get pulled away.
Caring about the world and taking care of yourself aren’t opposites.
They’re both necessary.
