Something in the Water
Why everyone feels tense, and how to keep from drowning in the ocean of negativity.
Things are tense. Period.
Not busy. Not stressful in the usual way. Tense. The kind of tense where you can hear a pen drop in a meeting and half the room flinches. I’ve felt it. Colleagues have told me they’ve felt it. Friends at companies that used to run on autopilot? Same story.
A buddy of mine said, “Feels like there’s something in the water around here.” I told him, “I don’t think it’s just the water here, man, it’s in the whole damn ocean.”
Because let’s be honest: what isn’t pressing down on us right now?
The economy is a Schrödinger’s cat, booming and collapsing at the same time depending on which pundit you believe.
Democracy? Feels less like a system of government and more like a Vegas slot machine.
Climate disasters, wars, AI boogeymen, a new cultural flame war every 48 hours, it’s like we’re all trapped in the world’s loudest group text that won’t shut up.
And it’s bleeding into our work lives. The office used to be a bubble. Sure, you had deadlines and the occasional annoying coworker or client, but there was a baseline of “normal.” That baseline has evaporated.
Now every workplace can feel like a family road trip with a broken A/C: everyone’s hot, cranky, and one dumb comment away from throwing hands.
And I’ll admit this: I’m guilty too. I’ve snapped at people. I’ve felt put upon. I’ve been grouchy. I’m listening to Queen’s Under Pressure on repeat. I complain too much, in direct contradiction of Stoic principles I espouse. I’m not proud of it. But at least I recognize it and I’m trying to do something about it (he said, whiningly).
So, what do we do? Because checking out completely isn’t an option. We’ve got mortgages, kids, jobs. We’re in this boiling ocean whether we like it or not.
Guard Your Attention
Psychologists like Jean Twenge and Jonathan Haidt have been pounding the table on this: the firehose of news and social media is wrecking our ability to think straight. Their advice? Treat your attention like a scarce resource.
No phones in the bedroom. No doomscrolling before coffee. Limit your inputs.
You wouldn’t eat three-day-old gas station sushi, you’d recognize it as poison. So why swallow all that digital garbage first thing in the morning?
Rebuild Human Connection
Sociologists will tell you that connection matters more than ever. Actual, face-to-face conversations. Meals without screens. Checking on your neighbor when you see them drag the trash cans out. These sound laughably small, but they add up.
Esther Perel puts it plainly: the quality of your relationships determines the quality of your life. If the wider vibe is toxic, create micro-environments, at work, at home, in your friendships, where people feel seen and heard.
Tend Your Garden
Voltaire had it right in Candide: il faut cultiver notre jardin. We must cultivate our garden. In plain English: you can’t fix Washington or Wall Street by screaming into your phone, but you can take care of your corner.
Read a book. Plant tomatoes. Call your mom. Take a walk. Build something that isn’t designed to extract your data and sell you more anxiety. That’s not “checking out.” That’s staking a claim for sanity.
Be Radically Nice
And here’s something embarrassingly simple I’ve been trying: be nice to people who are just doing their job.
The other day I booked a hotel room for a podcast appearance. The woman on the other end of the line, her name was Madison, went out of her way to get me a specific room I needed (it’s haunted. What can I say? I have many interests). When we wrapped up the call, I said, “Madison, I just want to thank you for the great job you did and the help you gave me today. I am mad about your customer service skills.”
She paused. Then chuckled. Then giggled: “Oh my gosh, thank you, you made my day.”
That was not hard to do. Took five seconds. But I guarantee you it changed the texture of her day, it did mine.
Don’t Try to Drain the Ocean
King Canute famously sat on the shore and tried to command the tide not to come in. Spoiler: he failed. You can’t drink the ocean dry, and you can’t sword-fight the waves.
You’re better off tending to the pool of water around your feet, maybe even channeling it into your little garden: your small acts of kindness, your attention to the people closest to you.
The ocean isn’t changing anytime soon. But we can manage our own stretch of shore.
Things are tense right now. Period. But we don’t have to let the tide pull us under.
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