Don't Let the Headlines Breathe for You

How we catch the internal stories that turn global news into physical exhaustion.

Dear friends

When we read about the US strikes in the Middle East and the subsequent responses from Iran, there is a very real, visceral reaction within us. It is a quiet tension that sits in the chest; a tendency to hold our breath as we wait for the next report. These are significant events that impact our sense of safety and our hope for a stable future. In these moments, it is easy to feel that we are simply being carried along by circumstances far larger than ourselves, with no way to steady our own internal state.

I was thinking about this during my daily walk to our local community wood this morning. We’ve had weeks of heavy grey skies, biting cold, and what has felt like constant rain, so when the clouds parted for a brief glimpse of blue and some sunlight I was looking forward to a moment of quiet after so much gloom. The wood is a favourite place of mine — a sanctuary where nature provides a consistent, calm presence.

During my walk, I encountered Scott, a man from the village. Scott was evidently feeling disgruntled, because he swiftly pointed out three “workers” who were there to clear fallen trees. To Scott, however, they were doing little more than talking. When I suggested they might be taking their elevenses, he told me that they walk the 15 minutes to the village shop to buy food during their break time, then eat it when they return, when they should be back at work. And they do the same thing at lunch and in the afternoon, before finishing early for the day.

I could have taken Scott’s story as my own and allowed it to lower my mood. Instead, I shrugged apologetically and smiled, saying it was great that the paths were being cleared regardless, before wishing him an enjoyable walk on such a beautiful day, and continuing on.

Shortly after, I came across the men myself. They had just started a chainsaw, but they stopped to talk when they saw me. I recognised them immediately. They were volunteers, not paid “workers” — three local men giving up their Monday and using their own equipment to clear fallen trees from paths, and prepare the timber for sale to raise funds for the woodland’s upkeep. I thanked them for their time, for the effort they put into maintaining the wood for the community, and continued my walk —happy, grounded and grateful.

This brings me back to the ABC model I shared a couple of weeks ago: the idea that our emotional responses (C) are rarely caused by events themselves (A), but by the internal beliefs and stories we use to make sense of them (B).

Scott and I both witnessed the same “activating event” A — three men in the wood, working at their own pace and pausing as they saw fit. However, our internal responses were worlds apart. Scott’s reaction was one of resentment and frustration. Mine was one of gratitude and connection. That difference came simply from the narratives we constructed around that event.

We can see this same pattern in how we process current affairs, just as much as in our personal encounters. Two more personal experiences from just a couple of weeks ago illustrate this well.

I read a Substack post about Deepak Chopra being mentioned thousands of times in the Epstein files. I wasn’t familiar with the author, but based on their background, they seemed to have more reason to defend Chopra than to criticise him, so I felt the piece deserved my attention. The content caused me to catch my breath, and my heart to sink. I was so unsettled by it that I actually misinterpreted some of the details — a common cognitive response when we are feeling stressed. I finished the post with a sense of genuine despair.

If it was as it appeared to me — that Chopra knew what Epstein had been doing but had certainly continued his friendship with Epstein, regardless; that he had remained silent once the files were released, and that some twenty other people we look to as spiritual or motivational leaders had failed to speak out on Chopra’s position — then what hope did we have of any kind of moral reckoning? The article weighed heavily on me for the rest of the day.

The next morning, after some rest, I decided not only to return to the text, but to go to the Epstein files directly and verify the facts of the connection myself. I then realised that the author of the piece had presented his “story” — his personal interpretation of the association, filtered through his own thoughts, beliefs and assumptions — instead of an objective account. And I had met his reactive narrative with a reactive response of my own. The inevitable result was my own distress.

The second event happened the following day, when a friend mentioned that Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor had been arrested. I was elated, thinking that at long last, there might be some accountability for what had happened to those young girls. My heart lifted, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was only when I checked the facts later, that I realised the arrest was focused on protecting the state’s trade secrets — a far cry from protecting the victims of sex trafficking.

These events remind me of lessons that are easy to lose sight of:

1. We should always try to check the facts behind a situation — or an “activating event” — whenever we can.

2. We can recognise that we might not have the full picture right now — and may never have it — and accpet that is just the way things are sometimes.

3. We can understand that the story we tell ourselves about what is happening is most often what actually creates our emotional response. If we feel a sense of dread or despair, we have the power to tell ourselves a different story. I’m not suggesting we should make things up, but perhaps we can give ourselves time for more facts to emerge before leaning into a story that will only cause us distress. Perhaps we can simply accept that this is how things stand — for now.

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Last week, we focused on noticing physical tension in response to an “activating event”.

This week, I’m going to ask you to simply extend that awareness. In addition to any sense of physical tension you feel following an activating event, try to pay attention to your heart and your breath.

Does your heart rate increase or slow down following an activating event? Does it feel as though your heart lifts or falls? And do you catch your breath — a sign of increased stress — or do you slowly exhale, a signal of release of tension?

Working through the ABC practice until it becomes second nature is one of the best ways for us to stop being emotionally buffeted by every political conversation we have or every piece of news we read. It also helps us recognise when others are sharing the facts we need to prepare for what lies ahead or stay steady, and when they are writing through the lens of their "story", with all the transferable emotional baggage that generally goes along with that.

The escalations between the US and Iran are deeply unsettling, and it is only natural to feel a sense of dread when the global situation feels so precarious. However, by reclaiming the space between what we hear and how we respond, we can move from a state of constant, exhausting reaction to one of quiet stability. This will allow us to preserve our internal reserves for the things that truly matter, rather than letting them be depleted by every passing headline. When we are steady within ourselves, we are much better equipped to face the world as it is, and to be present for those who might need our support.

We will continue to expand on this practice next Tuesday. Before then, on Friday, I will be sharing another supportive herb to help steady your system.

In solidarity, as ever

— Lori

© Lori Corbet Mann, 2026

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