Don’t Numb Out: Staying Human in Surreal Times

Lately, I’ve noticed a familiar thread woven through countless social media posts: a common sense that we’re living through historic times. Pandemics, natural disasters, wars, cultural shifts—it’s all unfolding in real time across the world.  

And yet, amid these incredible events, we still must walk the dog, pay the bills, fold the laundry, and wonder what’s for dinner. The dissonance between the daily news and the mundane tasks of life is disorienting.  

With near-constant access to a stream of global news, we are asked to carry more stress, heartbreak, and fear than our hearts were ever meant to bear. As division seems to deepen across the world, many of us are left holding emotions that don’t even belong to us, but they settle in our minds and bodies. Time feels compressed. Conversations can feel loaded. Life seems heavy. 

No wonder it’s hard to breathe sometimes.

This is how we stay whole. By fiercely protecting the sacred ordinary: quiet dinners, mowing the lawn, reading a book. These are not small things. They keep us together emotionally and spiritually.

Craving Meaning

In response, we seek relief during our free time. We might scroll endlessly, fill shopping carts with things we don’t need, or reach for food that soothes rather than nourishes. We may retreat into distraction as a means of survival. 

And yet despite the noise, fear, and exhaustion many of us feel, I still believe in something softer. I believe most people want to love their neighbors. They want to raise kind children, nurture their pets, take pride in their work, and laugh with friends over a good meal. We crave meaning. We long for connection. We want lives filled with dignity, respect, and care. 

But in a world that often numbs us through sheer overload, staying awake to life—truly awake— takes intention. And grace. 

When I sink too deeply into the news cycle, I feel myself drift away from my spiritual center. That’s when I try to return to a technique a therapist once taught me: 

Returning to Center

When you’re overwhelmed, look down at your feet. Tap your shoulders. Say aloud, “I am right here. Nothing bad is happening to me in this moment. I am right here.” 

It’s simple. And it works to bring me back to my present moment.  

Recently, I moved to a new neighborhood in suburbia—a surprisingly vibrant collection of cultures, languages, and faiths. And what’s most striking isn’t our differences, but our deep, human sameness. 

Parents light up when they greet their children. Partners return home with tired smiles. Neighbors tend flowers and wave across fences. Friends take evening walks.  

In the short time we’ve lived here, I see care and effort. I see humanity in motion. 

This is how we stay whole. By softening, not shutting down. 

By fiercely protecting the sacred ordinary: quiet dinners, mowing the lawn, reading a book. These are not small things. They keep us together emotionally and spiritually. 

When the weight of the world feels like it’s too much, I find solace in prayer, in silence, and in the wind and sun on my face. 

In those moments, I find my breath again. And from that stillness, I can ask: 

• What is mine to carry? 
• What is mine to donate to? 
• What is mine to vote, march, and speak out for? 
• Do I have blinders on or privilege showing? 

Because yes, the world needs change. But it also needs love. So the next time the world feels like too much—when division and despair show up on all your screens—resist the urge to go numb. Step away and take back your power through love for yourself and those around you.  

Real change starts at home with how we show up for our families, our neighbors, our communities. It starts with shaking a stranger’s hand and being open to seeing them as a person, even when they believe differently than you. It starts with remembering we are all divine human beings living on our shared planet.  

Instead of going numb, step outside. Breathe. Ground into the earth. Smile and greet a neighbor.  

Let that be your quiet act of rebellion. Your self-care.  

Let that be how we stay human in surreal times.