09/20/2026
Reflections
I woke up this morning wondering how long the human nervous system can handle witnessing this much suffering.
Gaza. Iran. War. People starving. Families losing everything. And it never seems to abate.
My brain does this strange thing on autopilot sometimes—it flashes backward. I remember simple family vacations, when the biggest concern was how many fireworks I would be allowed to purchase in South Dakota (long story LOL). I remember what it felt like to move through the world without carrying all of this around in my head.
What a life I’ve been blessed with.
And yet lately, empathy feels like it’s being asked to carry a heavy and unnecessary burden. We weren’t built to metabolize the suffering of eight billion people before breakfast.
Some of this is admittedly self-inflicted. I keep reaching for those little news dopamine hits, as though reading one more story will somehow help somebody. It usually doesn’t. It just brings another piece of suffering into the room.
But something unexpected has happened along the way.
I’ve become more compassionate. Kinder. More loving.
Everything is perspective.
Recently I spoke at a local treatment center. A lot of the residents looked beat up by life—dejected, exhausted, actively suffering. A few were authentically listening. Most nodded off.
I didn’t take it personally.
Sixteen years ago, when I first got sober, I was the guy nodding off.
Treatment is exhausting, in a good way. And standing there looking at those people became a mirror. I could see a version of myself sitting in those chairs, and I was reminded how easily any of us can forget just how far we’ve traveled.
None of us can carry Gaza. Or Iran. Or every hungry child, grieving parent, lonely addict, frightened family, or suffering stranger on this planet. The human heart may be enormous, but it was never designed to hold the pain of the entire world at once.
But we can carry a little of it.
Do something unselfish for someone. Something kind. Something generous. Pay it forward if you can. Sit with somebody who is hurting. Give somebody hope when yours happens to be running a little higher than theirs.
You won’t fix the world.
But for a moment, you might make somebody’s world a little easier to live in.
And if you’re anything like me, somewhere later that day you’ll catch yourself smiling when nobody is watching.
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
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