Choosing Presence in a World That Wants Outrage

This is a reflection on how external realities affect our nervous systems, and how choice becomes a form of care.

I am aware of what’s happening in the world — politically, socially, globally.

I see it. I read it. I feel it.

I’ve lived enough life to know that constant outrage and fear come at a cost. If I let it consume me, I disappear into survival mode again. I’ve been there. I know what it takes to come back. So I choose presence. I choose to try to stay rooted in my actual life and do the best I can with what I have, where I am.

Do I feel the weight of it all? Yes.

Do I get angry, discouraged, or overwhelmed? Yes.

Do I still try to choose grounding, love, and purpose anyway? Yes.

Both can exist.

Our feelings, morals, and beliefs guide us. I can’t tell someone they’re wrong for what they believe/feel — but I can choose distance when something doesn’t/no longer aligns with my values. That is my right. That is my choice. And that’s why I say we are all affected, even if not equally or all at once.

Rights and choices are being violated in real time. And until someone experiences that violation in a way that impacts their own life or body, it’s often dismissed, minimized, or treated casually. That doesn’t make it acceptable — it just makes it easier to ignore.

There is a difference between supporting lawful accountability and excusing harm.

There is a difference between wanting safety and tolerating abuse.

There is a difference between policy and dehumanization.

People being harmed, abused, or killed under the authority of institutions is not okay — ever. That truth can exist alongside conversations about law, safety, and borders. Those are not the same thing. When empathy disappears, it’s usually because the harm hasn’t touched close enough yet.

We are also watching repeated violations of trust, power, and decency at the highest levels — patterns of abuse, exploitation, and behavior that would be unacceptable in any other role of leadership. Representation matters. Safety matters. Integrity matters. A nation is shaped not only by its laws, but by what it tolerates.

This isn’t about party lines, race, or ideology. It’s about being human. It’s about protecting dignity — mine and others’.

Everything happening affects all of us — that part is unavoidable. But how it lives in our bodies matters deeply. Balance matters.

There has always been hate and love.

Right and wrong.

Unity and division.

Abuse of power. Violence. Exploitation of trust.

Those forces aren’t new, and they won’t disappear. What differs is how each person decides to engage — or not — and what they’re willing to tolerate in themselves and others.

This isn’t indifference.

It’s discernment.

It’s survival with integrity.

And it is enough.