Stress, Doomscrolling, and a Beer

Yesterday was an odd day, and I wanted to capture just how odd in a short post split into two sections: the news of the day and beers with a friend.

News of the Day

I’ve been a Reddit user for 18 years. I visit daily to catch up on the communities I care about, choosing which rabbit hole to fall down at my leisure. Normally, I enjoy the discovery process. But yesterday was different.

Trump’s strategy of “flood the zone” had also flooded Reddit, filling it with dozens of outrage-inducing stories. As I scrolled through headline after headline, my stress and anxiety levels peaked. Then, I read about ICE officials attempting to raid schools—and that was it. I had to put my iPad down and take a break.

When I walked into my wife’s office, I started vomiting news stories in a speed-talking rant of disgust. She actually stopped me and asked, “Are you okay?”

“No, I am not okay. I don’t know if I will ever be okay again. What the hell is happening?”

I cope by reading, thinking, and writing. But lately, just thinking about what’s going on feels intensely unsettling. I hate bullies. And I especially hate bullies who target children. Trump’s obsession with picking on the weak and vulnerable reminds me too much of my stepfather—a monster who thrived on power and cruelty.

Normally, when faced with stress, I turn my mind off. Poetry, music, or time with friends help me reset. But now is not the time to turn my mind off.

Beers with a Friend

(Alternate title: How My Friend’s Work Stories Triggered a Small Anxiety Attack)

As I sat and listened to my friend vent about work stress, something unexpected happened.

All of my old feelings resurfaced—the stress, the anxiety, the exhaustion. It was as if I was reliving the last year of my own employment. I retired 14 months ago, and in that time, I’ve done a great job of healing myself. Despite a recent health scare, I feel better than I have in years.

But then, my watch beeped. Heart rate warning.

I checked: my heart rate had spiked to levels I only see during intense exercise. But I wasn’t exercising. I was sitting in a brewery, sipping a beer, with a book of poetry at my side. One of my closest friends sat across from me. There was no reason for stress—this was supposed to be a normal, relaxing night.

I mentioned my rising stress levels to my friend, and we slowly shifted topics to something lighter. Within minutes, I calmed down. My heart rate dropped. I felt better. And I realized something important:

The problems I left behind need to stay behind.

I love my life now. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help my friend—of course I do. I want to hug him, give him advice, help him navigate his struggles.

But I won’t carry those burdens again. Instead, I’ll buy the beer.

Note: Crossposted to my Substack