So, I was watching the news the other day—like a responsible adult who pretends they’ve got a handle on the world—and in true chaotic fashion, a political clip flashed across the screen. You know the kind: stern faces, firm declarations.
My brain lights up: “this matters a lot!”
Is this good?
Is this bad?
Is it secretly both?
Is the media spinning it? Am I being spun? Who really is informed?
And just like that, I was off—launched into a 25-minute internal monologue that involved four hypothetical scenarios, five imaginary conversations, and me mentally arguing with some “representative” I’m not even sure what they do.
But let’s skip the 600-word descent into that madness and cut to the punchline:
I didn’t really care.
I thought I cared.
I believed I should care.
But deep down, beneath the mental gymnastics and obligatory sighs of concern… I didn’t.
Not really.
And you know how I knew that? It became extremely boring to try to care. I cared more about caring than the topic I was SUPPOSED to care about.
Now before you report me to your local “Citizen Who Should Care” hotline, let me clarify.
I do care. I care about people.
I just didn’t care about whatever thing was being discussed by angry man in a suit.
There’s a difference. A big one, actually.
When you truly care about something, it moves you—it compels you to act, to reflect, to engage.
When you think you should care, it’s usually because someone else told you it’s important. Or because X did. Or because the anchor on the news got Very Serious™ with his voice.
So there I sat, mildly stressed, semi-guilty, sipping coffee and wondering why I was so mentally invested in something I had no intention of doing anything about.
And then it hit me: I was borrowing someone else’s care. Like a care-on-loan program and I have a horrible emotional credit score. The cost of the interest would floor me if I took that on.
But here’s the strange and glorious twist: admitting I didn’t care, it gave me peace to be that honest.
Because what I do care about is how people respond to news like that. My heart isn’t in the headlines—it’s with the person who’s afraid because of them, who’s confused, or angry, or overwhelmed.
Even when I don’t agree with people’s perspective it’s nice to hear their conviction and walk alongside them.
So instead of funneling all my energy into a political opinion I didn’t even want, I redirected it to empathy.
And now, the real punchline—maybe the only part you need to hear:
You only have so much energy every day.
Which means it’s a precious resource. Like toilet paper during a panic (or eggs these days).
So ask yourself:
Do I actually care?
Or do I just think I should?
Practicing that tiny bit of honesty can save you hours of mental spiraling (refer back to my loan and interest metaphors, I was proud of that one).
Because maybe you don’t care about that thing.
But there is something else you care about a lot. And living in alignment with that thing makes you rational, grounded, and a lot less likely to throw your remote at the news.
So go ahead—care less, on purpose.
And care where it matters.
Thank you for attending my TED Talk slash coffee-fueled ramble.
From Where I Stand 