Someone had set off a huge bomb in India, or ‘gone postal.’ Then, a giant sinkhole had devoured a sleeping man- and his entire house. The wrong leg was surgically removed. A mass grave was discovered in…Yada-yada.
WAIT! Maybe the reason for my malaise was right in front of me!
I’d become a TV news junkie.
-Worse, while channel surfing for relief, I’d witness pretend and real murders.
-I’d be shown a hoarder’s house, and hear about embezzlers, robbers, and home invaders who killed. Neighbor: “I can’t believe this! He/she was so nice!” (Translated: Nobody’s safe anymore.)
-Giant tornadoes/typhoons/earthquakes erased communities. Heliocopters filmed stunned survivors for voracious audiences.
-Reporters endlessly discussed people who killed for religious or political beliefs, or honked on about politicians running amok, or asked ‘experts’ why a man would toss six kittens out of a seventh story window.
It was all Bad. No, it was all Terrible. I began every day immersed in Terrible, Awful, Eternally Bad news, and frantic ads. Who wouldn’t be profoundly sad? Yet, I’d permitted these visual and auditory assaults with nary a protest. I was close to becoming numb to what once would have horrified me.
I’d nearly succumbed to the inference that there were hardly any good people left. I feared much. I could control nothing. I felt helpless, and hopeless.
Could it be that TV news was distorting my view of the world? Yet, I had to know what was happening, didn’t I?
Isn’t it?
To find out, I turned it off. In fact, I unplugged it. I stopped reading newspapers, and refused to even glance at mag-rags at check-out stands that showed, in living color, Hollywood stars’ various body parts distorted by incompetent plastic surgeons, or that babbled on about who was bedding whom, or salivated over which celeb was dumped, or ‘battling’ cancer, or dying ‘bravely.’ (Readers could choose between being titillated, or profoundly depressed. Or, in an embarrassment of riches, they could embrace both.)
Excising the constant recitation of awful events- about which I could do nothing- was akin to radical brain surgery. Initially I experienced tube-junkie withdrawal. The absence of mostly depressing, useless ‘information’ made me jittery-nervous. I suffered acute separation anxiety. I bit my nails and worried about missing something important.
Occasionally, if there were a significant event, my husband would brief me. Briefly. This approach allowed me to gradually wean myself from my addiction.
I started to feel better. Withdrawal pains lessened, then evaporated. I slowly relaxed, and looked forward to fresh, unpolluted days.
I found myself shocked, bored, and not a little embarrassed when I flicked on my friend’s tube for a scant minute, recently.Ads. Ads. Ads. Poop. Ads. Poop. Poop.
TV doesn’t truly represent what’s actually happening out there. It’s mostly a bottom-feeder.
Regaining my balance has taken a long time, but this new footing feels fine. My sense of what’s ‘normal’ has radically changed. Decent people are all around me, quietly doing their jobs, loving their families and pets, playing sports, celebrating special occasions, paying bills and trying to raise their children to be responsible adults. Police and firefighters dedicate their working lives to bettering our communities. Volunteers generously give their time for all manner of causes. Neighborhoods hold fund-raising dinners to help victims of some misfortune. Americans rush to disaster areas, like Haiti, to help.
I’m living in a world that’s learning to improve the environment, and heal the sick in innovative ways. (Surgeons, for example, do cleft palate surgery free, transforming children’s lives in poor countries.)
Oh- and the planet’s weather is mostly benign, most of the time.
I’d almost forgotten these ongoing, everyday realities.
The implacable tube will never again decide for me what is important. I won’t indulge its obsessive focus on the tiny percentage of terrible human behavior, or gawk as it constantly displays deadly weather. I won’t be drawn into its cultivation of uneasiness, insecurity, suspicion and fear.
I’m paying much more attention to the normal, healthy aspects of people who live on planet Earth, in my country, my state, my town, and my neighborhood.
Here’s the thing: if something disruptive happens, I’ll know. But there’ll be no more hand-wringing about bad stuff. I’d rather wallow in my own good dirt outside. It’s much cleaner.
Radical surgery- being permanently unplugged- has calmed me, and provided a fresh opportunity to puzzle out the human family.
I’ve decided that we’re a lot like fudge; mostly sweet, with a few nuts.
I can live with that.