“I don’t read the news anymore.”

“So, you’re oblivious as to what I’m talking about? Have you been living under a rock?”

“Yes.”

I was at my sister’s house yesterday, celebrating my niece’s ninth birthday, and sipping gulping red wine when my mom asked, “What do you think about . . . ?” The blank stare on my face broadcasted my ignorance. She persisted, “Didn’t you read that [a politician did something newsworthy]?” I responded, “I did not see that story. I do not read the news.” Crickets. Mom must’ve thought, “Who are you?”

Before the pandemic, I loved following politics and reading the news every day. I was proud of my ability to banter about the most recent headlines. I thought, “Aren’t I swell? I make sarcastic [what I thought were] witty remarks about Mitch McConnell, Congressional deadlock, and other doom & gloom topics.” But sometime after the pandemic, my perspective changed.

Mental chatter ramped up as a result of fears concerning the coronavirus combined with 45’s consistent attempts to jam the Constitution through a paper shredder. My rumination and anxiety were at a new apex when I read an article extolling the benefits of a no-news lifestyle.

Kicking the habit of ingesting copious amounts of news was not easy. I worried I’d have nothing to add to conversations with friends and family. “If I don’t read the news every day, how the hell will I know if extraterrestrials invade Iowa or Musk moves to Mars?!” My fears were baseless.

I still obtain critical information about the world. I am calmer. And while my mental chatter persists, the content is often less intense. I replaced thoughts about polls and pols with reflections directed inward. I think I smile more, too.