For when you need to look away...

making sense of avoidant behavior.

In today’s emotional release, I reflect on my struggle with staying informed about overwhelming world events while managing my personal well-being. I describe my partner’s decision to disengage from the news and my own conflicted feelings about doing the same. The piece explores the balance between caring for others and self-preservation, emphasizing the importance of listening to one’s needs without guilt. I resolve to focus on small joys, like making art, and accept that it’s okay to step back in order to recharge and find hope for the future.

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Recovering from this moment and trying not to stress about the future.

Hi there. I’ve been noticing something lately. It started after the election when Josh removed the news app from his phone. “We get the paper,” he said. “Everything else is just noise.”

Last week, I really, really wanted to talk to him about how I felt blindsided by Mark Zuckerberg, the wildfires, and what a ceasefire meant. As I age, it’s harder for me to learn new things, so each night I’d bring up one of these topics. I was so surprised to hear him say, “Carissa, I don’t want to talk about that,” or “Carissa, I’m not reading the news. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Still, when a thought popped up, I couldn’t help myself—I’d say it out loud, expecting a different response, I suppose.

Yes, I think this is frustrating, even unfair—a luxury he has. And yes, what good are life partners if we can’t process what’s happening in the world in a safe space with them? And yet, is he right? His body was coping in the only way it knew how: by shutting down. He was overwhelmed, so he stopped paying attention.

In the circles we move in, there’s a kind of guilt that comes with this—this ability to look away from others’ pain. There’s this idea that we should care, stay informed, and do everything we can for our communities. But what happens when, just to function, you ignore what’s beyond your control?

How do we keep our nervous systems in balance when the demands of what we owe each other feel incomprehensible? What do we owe one another (help, compassion) and ourselves (tenderness, care)?

I’ve noticed that I, too, am developing a certain disinterest in all things political. I’m trying to make sense of it.

For years, I’ve practiced listening to my actions, feelings, and emotions without judgment—trying to understand what my subconscious needs. Right now, it’s telling me to disappear. I have little control over this instinct. All I can do is use the information to understand. And right now, it’s telling me to look away.

This is scary. We’re in a moment when we need people to fight, yet we’re all so tired. We have our own fires burning in our lives, demanding our attention. It feels like there’s this insurmountable to-do list that needs to be tackled today.

"It’s okay to look away. It’s okay to love what your heart loves."

But I’m here to say—and need someone to tell me—that it’s okay to look away. It’s okay to love what your heart loves. You can do this and still hope for a better future.

I take comfort in the fact that some people are celebrating today. They honestly believe this is the way forward for a better future. Some may celebrate as a concession or as validation of something they’ve always felt was true. I am neither of those.

I’m celebrating because I still can. I can look away, be authentic to how I feel. This is a fleeting privilege, but if I can’t savor it now, how will I have the energy to move forward?

When thinking about what I wanted for this year—and this year already feels so much longer than it is—I decided I wanted to waste time. It’s strange how we look to the new year as a fresh start, a chance to change, improve, and begin again. 2024 was so hard. And 2025 somehow feels even harder, at least for me.

I’m going to start by making art again, knowing that failure is an option.

You don’t have to solve all the world’s problems today—not even your own. I take comfort in knowing there will still be joy amid the discomfort. How we find that joy, where it comes from, and what we do with it—that doesn’t have to be figured out today.

Thanks for being, whatever that is, with me today.

With love and understanding, Carissa