When the world feels too heavy: caring without carrying it all

Kimberly Freeman, BA.Psych, Dip.Couns, Registered Counsellor

6 hours ago

5 min read

You pick up your phone for a moment.

Before you've finished your coffee, you've seen someone grieving, someone being threatened, another family whose lives have changed forever.

You read a headline that makes your stomach drop. Then you open the comments.

They hurt almost as much as the story.

The cruelty. The certainty. The ease with which another person's suffering becomes an argument, a joke, or something they supposedly deserved.

Then you put your phone down and get on with your day.

There are lunches to make. People to see. Emails to answer. Someone asks what's for dinner.

But something of what you saw comes with you.

If the world has felt unusually heavy lately, I want to make room for that. For the sadness you cannot quite explain. For the anger. For the exhaustion of caring about things you cannot fix.

You don't have to be at the centre of a tragedy to be affected by witnessing it.

If you have been feeling overwhelmed by the news lately, you are not alone.

The news doesn't always stay on the screen

Distressing news can leave us anxious and overwhelmed. Confronting events and images can affect even those of us who usually feel able to cope.

Perhaps you recognise the urge to check again, hoping the next update will offer reassurance. Perhaps you find yourself thinking about a stranger's loss while you are driving home. Perhaps the question underneath it all is: “What kind of world are we living in?”

We don't all experience this in the same way.

For some, the headlines concern people and places far away.

For others, they concern family, home, identity, or a community they belong to. Some people can close an app and get some distance. Others are living with the very threats the rest of us are reading about.

That difference matters.

So does the fact that pain doesn't need to be the greatest pain in the room before it deserves care.

When cruelty shakes our sense of safety

There is something deeply unsettling about watching people respond to suffering with contempt.

We may find ourselves wondering whether others would care if it were our child, our partner, our family. Whether there would be compassion for us. Whether it is safe to be ourselves.

And sometimes the words come from someone we know.

A relative shares a hateful post. A friend dismisses something that feels deeply personal. A conversation becomes an argument, and suddenly the distance between you feels much larger than a difference of opinion.

You may be grieving the ease you once felt with that person. You may be wondering what can be repaired, what needs a boundary, or what you simply cannot keep discussing.

You are allowed to take those questions seriously. You don't have to accept dehumanising language to prove you are open-minded.

The helplessness of caring

One of the hardest parts is the distance between how much we care and how little control we have.

We want people to be safe. We want the suffering to stop. We want someone to do something.

And when we can't change what's happening, watching can begin to feel like the only thing we can offer.

Perhaps looking away feels disloyal. Perhaps enjoying your afternoon feels uncomfortable when someone else is having the worst day of their life.

But your continued distress cannot, by itself, protect them.

You don't have to keep hurting yourself to prove that you care.

You can take someone's suffering seriously without watching every video. You can remain informed without reading every argument. You can care about justice and still eat dinner, laugh with your children, and sleep.

There is room for compassion that includes you.

Finding somewhere to put the care

When everything feels too much, it may help to ask a smaller question:

“What is one thing I can do with the care I am feeling?”

That might mean checking on someone personally affected. Supporting a reputable organisation, if you have the means. Giving your time. Writing to a representative. Speaking up when someone is being treated cruelly, where it is safe to do so.

It might also mean listening to a person who has had to explain their pain too many times already.

These actions will not solve every problem. They can still matter to the person receiving them.

And on a day when you have very little left, looking after your own basic needs is a reasonable place to begin. You do not have to earn rest by first doing enough for everyone else.

Giving yourself some breathing room

Consider choosing when you check the news, rather than letting every notification choose for you.

Give yourself permission to skip graphic footage, mute an account, or leave a comment thread. Take a break from news and social media when crisis coverage becomes overwhelming.

You might ask yourself: "Am I learning something useful now, or am I reading the same distressing thing again?”

Afterwards, notice what would help you return to the day around you. A drink of water. Something to eat. A familiar routine. A few minutes outdoors. A conversation with someone who can listen without turning your feelings into a debate.

If you are safe in this moment, allow yourself to notice that. If safety is uncertain, practical support and connection matter more than trying to talk yourself out of a real concern.

You can also tell someone, simply: “What I am seeing is getting to me.”

You don't need a more impressive reason to ask for company.

We can offer each other something different

During Queensland Mental Health Week, the theme “Build Community, Build Wellbeing” invites us to think about the connection we create around us.

That can begin in very ordinary ways.

Checking on the person who has gone quiet. Refusing to turn another person's grief into entertainment. Thinking about who might read a comment before we post it.

Asking someone how they are managing, and leaving enough space for the answer.

There's no need to pretend everything is fine. There's room to be honest about how frightened, angry, or tired we feel, while still treating one another with care.

If what you are seeing is affecting your sleep, your relationships, or your ability to get through the day, speaking with a counsellor or GP can be a useful next step.

You don't have to arrive with a diagnosis. You can begin with: “I am finding things hard.”

The suffering we see deserves our attention. The people experiencing it deserve meaningful support.

And you, the person trying to hold all of this while living an ordinary Tuesday, deserve care too.

You are allowed to put your phone down and remain a person who cares.

Kimberly Freeman is an ACA Registered Counsellor and the founder of Shifting Perspective Counselling on the Sunshine Coast. She offers a compassionate space to explore grief, relationships, life changes, and the things that feel difficult to carry alone. In-person and online appointments are available.

If you are overwhelmed and need immediate emotional support, Lifeline is available in Australia on 13 11 14, 24 hours a day. If life is in immediate danger, call 000.