The headlines pass through me

I barely read the news anymore.

Usually, I read the news all the time. Not obsessively, like many in the information era.

But I check the news with the awareness and urgency that the news shapes my reality on a day-to-day, minute-to-minute basis.

Once, my therapist (who is in America) said to me, "Why don't you put your phone in another room?"

I laughed and said that my phone is a lifeline for an ever-changing environment. It tells me when I'm in danger.

Often, the news, as chaotic and painful as it can be to read, tells me if it's safe to go outside that day.

Should I let my kids walk to school? Take a bus? Take a train?

What neighborhoods are safe?

Will danger fall from the sky today?

Will war erupt and move the ground beneath our feet once again?

But these days of war, I am oversaturated with information.

Or maybe I'm oversaturated with urgency.

During war days, the most essential information comes from the Homefront Command, who will message me relentlessly even if I don't want to hear from them.

There's no option to shut them off.

You wouldn't want to (as annoying and disruptive as the alerts are).

It's your lifeline to safety.

I'm finding that because I'm being spammed with alerts (that I need) all the time- information about what's happening in other parts of the world (or even sometimes other parts of Israel)- enters this fog state in my head.

I see headlines- but the information doesn't penetrate like it usually does.

People ask me, "Have you heard?"

And I say, "Oh yes, I saw something about that..." with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

The details disappear because my brain is too overloaded with agitation, because I'm living with an awareness that I need to be aware of my surroundings 24/7.

I see that there are terror situations, or the burning of Hatzalah ambulances in London, plane crashes, and the machinations of politics. Haunting stories that break my heart.

But, I'm finding that even the details of the war that I'm living in are slipping away from me.

There is too much happening for one mind to hold.

So the minutiae blurs.

The headlines pass through me.

The edges soften.

And what remains is the feeling of living inside something constantly shifting.

I’m not uninformed. I’m at capacity.

I’m learning what to hold, and what to let pass through.

I take what I need to stay safe, and I keep on living.