Clawing Our Way Back from the Age of Angst

Is it just me, or are we living in the Age of Angst—a time when fear, dread, and uncertainty are coloring our everyday interactions and expectations of the future?

Actions that used to be spontaneous and carefree—booking a trip, clicking on a news site, planning a social event—now come with hesitation marks. Will I be stuck on an airless, overheated, grounded plane for hours on end due to extreme weather, an unruly passenger, a mechanical malfunction, or a flight crew that has “timed out” and needs to be replaced? Will clicking on Apple News+ on my phone lead me into the pits of despair, feeding me evidence of humanity at its worst rather than anything thought-provoking, much less edifying? Will gathering indoors with friends further compromise my already fragile health?

I have long prided myself on my optimism, fortified by my faith in humankind and a better tomorrow. But now? Now, I find myself in what can feel like an eternal state of dread—waiting for the next shoe to drop, bracing myself for something unexpected and even more damaging to occur. The death toll in Lāhainā. The late-summer resurgence of COVID-19. Saber-rattling in the Pacific. Political assassinations. In his most recent interview with Donald Trump—a way for Trump to flip the bird to GOP heavyweights and the organizers of this election period’s first Republican presidential debate—Tucker Carlson casually asked the former president whether he thought “the left” would try to kill him. Kill him. Like that’s just another option in the standard political playbook.

How did we get here? And, more important, how do we claw our way back out?

At a political and organizational level, we need to retain a relentless focus on open communication, take measures to restore trust in science and institutions, and push back against divisiveness and extremism with reason and a desire to find the middle ground. More immediately, we need to take steps to protect ourselves as individuals. None of us can afford to leave our mental health to happenstance anymore. We must proactively nurture and protect it. We need to search for reasons to hope—including by consciously consuming good news. It won’t solve the world’s problems, but as flight attendants routinely remind us, we each need to don our own oxygen masks before attending to anyone else’s.

Over the past several years, I’ve assembled a small collection of what I consider positive news and information sources. They’re not all of the “feel-good” variety, but they consistently share positive advances and give me reason to hope that all is not lost. The Broadsheet reminds me that progress on women’s issues hasn’t completely stalled. I’ve also subscribed to organizational psychologist Adam Grant’s monthly newsletter, Granted . The topics are varied, but there’s always something to grab my interest—and nothing that makes me want to crawl back under the bedcovers.

When I feel overwhelmed by political polarization and partisanship, I dip into oases of reason and substance. Current favorites include Heather Cox Richardson’s Letters from an American —a newsletter that offers sorely needed historical context—and, a new one for me, Tangle . The latter tackles one big debate in U.S. politics each day and then summarizes what it considers the best arguments from the right, left, and center. It’s a great source of information for when I’m not quite certain where I land on a debate.

I also find myself gravitating toward non-news content—which is a pretty significant change for news junkie me. NPR’s Life Kit offers sound—and often entertaining—advice on everything from nutritious meal prep to how to inject more playtime into one’s life. And after a lifetime of lowbrow chick lit, I’m finding comfort in literature. I borrowed a friend’s copy of Granta to read on a plane, and I appreciated how it was able to transport me from the present to other places and times. Next up: James McBride. I’m told I should start with The Color of Water but that none of his novels miss the mark.

And, finally, I’m practicing self-defense. Case in point: I’m moving from muting more people on Elon Musk’s X to simply spending less time on the site. Why seek out aggravation? I haven’t yet migrated to Spoutible or Mastodon or Bluesky to cut down on misinformation bots and trolls, but it may just be a matter of time. Better yet, I may “consciously uncouple” from social media—at least for a bit.

I’d love to hear your best practices for the Art of Self-Defense in the Age of Angst. May its reign be fleeting.