The Weight of a Broken World
3:47 AM. Another sleepless night scrolling through the wreckage of human decency.
You know that feeling, don't you? That hollow pit in your stomach when you witness another social media mob tearing someone apart. Another family dinner ruined by political rage. Another friendship sacrificed on the altar of being right.
Here's what's eating at me – and if you're honest, it's eating at you too:
We've forgotten how to be human to each other.
When did we lose the ability to disagree without declaring war?
When did having a different opinion become grounds for total annihilation?
I'm watching this happen everywhere. Online, obviously. But also at work. In families. Between neighbors. People who used to be able to have a conversation now can't even make eye contact. We've turned every disagreement into a moral emergency that requires immediate and total victory.
This isn't just about politics or social media. This is about who we're becoming.
This week, Charlie Kirk was shot at a public event. Within hours, people were celebrating his death online while others immediately weaponized his tragedy for political points. Both sides lost their humanity before the man was even buried.
People are exhausted in ways that go bone-deep. There's an anxiety that's not about specific fears but about existing in this world at all. People feel guilty for wanting to protect their mental health because "others have it worse." They're carrying the weight of every global crisis like they're personally responsible for solving all of them.
Let me tell you something: Protecting your mental health isn't selfish. It's necessary.
You can't pour from an empty cup. You can't be kind to others when you're running on fumes of rage and despair. You can't engage in real dialogue when you're so overwhelmed by the world's problems that you've lost touch with your own humanity.
Here's what nobody is saying - the world didn't suddenly become broken. We just have front-row seats to everyone's pain now. Every injustice, every tragedy, every moment of human cruelty – it all lands on your nervous system like you're personally responsible for fixing it.
Your great-grandmother dealt with war, famine, and loss. But she didn't carry the weight of every war, every famine, every loss happening simultaneously across the globe. She didn't wake up to people celebrating someone else's death in the most disturbing and macabre ways possible. She didn't wake up to notifications about seventeen different crises before her morning coffee.
The exposure is new. The trauma is real. And your limits are valid.
And now we're passing this toxicity to our kids. Thirteen-year-olds are watching murder footage at school because someone thought assassination videos were worth sharing. Parents are coming home to find their children have seen graphic violence during lunch break. We've created a world where kids carry images of strangers dying in their developing brains, then we act shocked when they're anxious and struggling.
We're so busy absorbing everyone else's trauma that we've forgotten to protect what's happening inside our own heads. So busy staying "informed" about every global crisis that we can't be present for our own lives.
What's happening is people are absorbing so much secondhand trauma that they can't tell the difference between their own pain and the world's pain. They're paralyzed by suffering they can't control while ignoring the healing they can actually create in their own lives and communities.
You want to know what real kindness looks like? It's not performing outrage on social media. It's not sharing every article about every injustice. It's not carrying guilt about taking a mental health day while others are struggling.
Real kindness is learning how to disagree without destroying. It's choosing curiosity over certainty when someone thinks differently than you. It's remembering that the person who voted for that candidate you hate might be doing their best with information and experiences you've never had.
Real kindness is protecting your mental health so you can show up as a whole human being for the people in your actual life.
Let's talk about something harder: You've been weaponizing your empathy.
That constant outrage? That need to feel every injustice as if it's happening to you personally? That's not empathy. That's trauma bonding with a broken news cycle. Real empathy has boundaries. Real empathy knows when to engage and when to step back. Real empathy understands that you can't save the world by destroying yourself.
I see people pouring their energy into online arguments with strangers while their marriages fall apart. People so consumed with global injustice that they can't be present for their kids. Beautiful hearts breaking themselves against problems they were never meant to solve alone.
Here's what you can do – and I mean actually do, not just think about:
- First: Create a daily news boundary. Pick one time to check news. Set a timer. When it goes off, you're done. The world's problems will still exist tomorrow, but your nervous system needs a break today.
- Second: Practice disagreeing with kindness. Next time someone says something that makes you want to unleash hell, take a breath and ask one question: "Help me understand your perspective." Watch what happens to the conversation.
- Third: Define your sphere of influence. Make a list of problems you can actually impact with your time, energy, and resources. Everything else gets prayer, positive energy, or whatever you believe in – but not your daily mental bandwidth.
The world doesn't need more people carrying everyone else's pain. The world needs people who've learned how to carry their own pain with grace, who've protected their mental health enough to show up with genuine kindness instead of performative outrage.
Your mental health matters.
Your peace matters.
Your ability to love the people in your actual life matters.
The change we need isn't about who can be the most outraged. It's about who can stay human in an inhumane world. It's about who can model a different way of being while everyone else is losing their shit.
The algorithm wants your outrage. The platforms profit from your engagement with violence. The news cycle feeds on your anxiety and fear.
But you don't have to participate.
We can't control what's happening out there. But we can control what's happening in here – in our hearts, in our homes, in our daily interactions with the humans we actually encounter.
Stop scrolling through other people's nightmares, be kind and start living your own life.
Stay safe out there and please... be kind.