This past week has been a heavy one. You didn’t need to turn on the news or scroll very far to feel it. Sad headlines piled on top of each other, and every feed seemed to be a tug-of-war of hot takes and contradictory opinions. It was relentless, and if I didn’t practice self-care, I would be a basket case today.

But this isn’t the first time. We’ve all lived through weeks like this before, moments when disasters strike, tragedies unfold, and the world feels tilted. The part we forget is that while we can’t control the chaos, we can control how much of ourselves we hand over to it.

That’s the tricky part in today’s digital world. The information never sleeps. It’s easy to get pulled into the black hole, one article leading to another, one video bleeding into the next. Hours slip by, and instead of clarity, we’re left with a heavier heart.

What I’ve learned (or maybe what I had to re-learn) is that we have choices. We can scroll past what we know will only drain us. We can face the ugliness when necessary, and then step back before it swallows us whole. And most importantly, we can hold onto the quiet, ordinary moments that remind us the world isn’t all noise. A laugh over dinner. A walk outside. Even the relief of closing the screen and taking a breath.

Balance, I think, is survival. We don’t honor the pain of the world by drowning in it, and we don’t honor ourselves by ignoring it altogether. We need both: to acknowledge the darkness and to seek out the light.

So this week, when the world felt too loud, I tried to remember that even when everything feels out of control, I don’t have to hand over my peace to every headline or every opinion. Sometimes the bravest thing is to step away, notice what’s still good, and hold it close.

This weekend, I plan to spend time with my family, getting lost in the comfort of their presence. I’m going to tilt my head back and let the sun bathe my face in its warmth. I’ll take extra time to listen to the birds and the breeze, letting those simple sounds settle me.

Yes, I’ll probably look at my phone more than I should, but this time, I’ll scroll past the ugliness and bitterness of those who thrive on it. Instead, I’ll focus on the good, the funny, the heartwarming, and then put it down to live in the moments that matter most.