Earlier this year I read a book that changed my life.
Okay, yes, I know that first sentence is dripping in hyperbole, but the book really did name a lot of what I’ve been feeling over the last few years while drifting between the spaces of healthcare and social media.
What I would call a violent jacuzzi of internal thoughts, monologue, distraction, and overwhelm, Johann Hari calls Stolen Focus, in his book so aptly named.
I’ve been sitting on how I wanted to integrate and frame this book into my everyday life and writing, and now more than ever feels like the most appropriate time.
The news cycle the past few weeks has been horrific. Innocent people and children are dying and have died in Palestine and Israel. Viewing the photos is heart wrenching. I, like many, found myself in an immediate place of under education and overwhelm, a very dangerous place to be actually - a place where reactivity is more common rather than thoughtful pause and response. Real people, with rich inner lives, innocent lives at that, are dead and are dying. And/or are living an unimaginable reality of having no drinking water, electricity, or food.
The more I consumed about Israel and Palestine, while maintaining my day job and spending countless hours on screens, the more chaos and terror I felt. I was inundated with high emotion. And then eventually, as the week progressed and work stress rose, that high emotion just kind of stopped. I’ve felt this way at work at various points. When deep caring and feeling leads to compassion fatigue and then absolute numbness, dissociation and despondence.
The brain adapts in order to keep going. So while I was still showing up for work and staying as present as I possibly could with patients, every task outside of work felt impossible.
There was a listlessness. A buzzing, a panicked hum. The inability to be still. The uncomfortable ache that comes with silence.
Though it wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was actually unbearable.
“WHY CAN’T I GET ANYTHING DONE?,” I wondered, while sitting on the couch scrolling on my phone for hours on end trying to consume as much information about Israel and Palestine as possible, taking breaks to peruse other social media sites and news feeds.
Endless endless scrolling and panic prevented me from not only engaging thoughtfully with what was happening globally, but also what was happening in my own life.
All of the things I’ve named in prior newsletters - rage, distraction, dissociation to name a few - were heightened the last few week. In combination with the news cycle, more screen time, and holding space for global grief in patient encounters, I entirely lost the ability to do any task slowly, calmly, and fully. My focus was fragmented.
So I took a break from social media in order to pause, slow, reflect, learn, and refill the empathy well.
It is an absolute privilege to be able to take breaks. And also incredibly important to stay informed. This break wasn’t just to tune out what was happening personally and globally. But rather, of the “how can I get my mind right so I can see and feel these things with depth” variety.
I recently read Stolen Focus, and therefore my time away from social media felt far more intentional. It wasn’t just a goal of removing the obstacle or distraction; it was to turn and tune back in.
The book is comprehensive and I would highly encourage the read or listen (the author narrates the book on Audible). I enjoyed it because it didn’t place all the blame on the individual, but rather recognizes big systems at play that have quickened fractured focus.
I’ll highlight some relevant elements of the text in this newsletter, particularly the themes around multitasking, screens, and social media contributing to lost attention. And both the short and longterm consequences of this, on a local and global forum.
And of course, near the end and throughout, I include some things I’m doing in my every day life to feel and think deeply again.