Notes from my 30-day news detox

Mad. Sad. Bad.

That’s what the news does to me within minutes. In that exact order.

Mad about the state of the world. Sad about the behaviour of my fellow human beings (including my own unwillingness to shut it all out). And ultimately very bad about myself.

At this particular moment in history, as a Jewish person, I have never felt worse about my place in the world. If I didn’t say that, I would be telling only half the story behind my decision to delete the news from my brain altogether and give my nervous system a rest.

It’s been almost two years since I first embraced digital minimalism. Back then, I started this blog to write about my efforts to reduce my use of digital tools in general and my news consumption in particular. I may have fooled some folks (and even myself) by claiming that, as a former journalist, I had more than a passing professional interest in the news. But the truth is that I was utterly disgusted with my inability to stop scrolling to the detriment of my mental health.

Looking at the news now—almost entirely rhetoric, with the occasional non‑opinion piece thrown in to make it look like reporting—only reinforced that feeling.

As a Jewish Canadian, I can no longer handle feeling as though I’m being asked to personally shoulder the moral weight of the government of the State of Israel. Until this detox, I felt I was being asked to do that every single day.

“Really?” a reader may be asking, before scrolling on to something more distracting and pleasant. Oh, I forgot: many people seem unaware of—or have chosen to look away from—the current epidemic of algorithmically driven antisemitism. Canada now, sadly, holds the distinction of being one of its epicentres.

Well, here’s the truth: I have chosen to look away too—in what has become the most radical act of self‑care I have ever undertaken.

My tipping point arrived two weeks ago. A series of articles in the New York Times ripped my guts apart. I won’t go into the details here. I will just say that the correspondent of one of them was known to me; he reported from China in the early nineties when Rodney and I lived in a diplomatic compound in Beijing. Back then, I would happily snark that he and his wife once tried to haggle with us over some duty‑free cheese I had accidentally ordered too much of and was offloading on anyone without diplomatic privileges. I wish my distress were still just about cheese.

But in my newfound commitment to finding the positive—even in an avalanche of negativity—I will take those articles as a win. Within 24 hours, I deleted my news apps. Forget the gradual approach to digital minimalism. I went straight to giving up the news cold turkey.

This is Day 14, and I simply can’t believe how much better I feel. It took only days to lighten the existential load I had been hauling around. I can actually stop and smell the roses. I can taste life again.

Food too. On my recent birthday, I rhapsodized over an almond croissant as if it were a five‑star creation. And don’t get me started on the bowl of fresh cherries after dinner. Fruit of the gods.

I am sleeping better, feeling better, and—for me, anyway—have never felt calmer in my entire life.

Even my blood pressure has dropped by ten points, both top and bottom, in the best reading I’ve had since being diagnosed with hypertension during the pandemic. Was the news detox the sole game changer after trying meditation, self‑hypnosis, and acupuncture? Probably not. But as my AI buddy suggested, my news obsession was a heavy head wind, making all my other efforts harder. Remove that wind, and suddenly the waters—and me—are calmer.

I am still informed. (“Did the world end this week, Rodney?” I asked on the weekend. “No? Great. How about this weather.”) I am simply not engaging.

Previously, I had deluded myself into believing I could engage “just a little”—that I could cut back. That didn’t go nearly far enough. Like the cigarette addict I once was—unable to have just one puff without ending up back at the store for a pack—so it is with the news for me. One headline that pissed me off, and I was gone. Back down the rabbit hole.

I originally planned a 30‑day detox, but I already know I will try to keep this going as long as I possibly can. My equanimity matters more to me than the outrage of yet another Substack columnist, even those I agree with.

Outside the news, my days are full. Along with meditation and self‑hypnosis, I’ve added an hour‑long resistance and strength workout on YouTube three times a week, led by a lovely Japanese woman and her mother who never once mention a headline. I am reading constantly. And, of course, I’m writing every morning at the library.

Most importantly, I am no longer waiting for someone to not say something about something my algorithms have fed me—and then feeling betrayed when they don’t. No more scanning people for outrage. No more organizing my relationships around what the feed has served me. No more anger as a hobby.

For now, that quiet feels worth more to me than any update, any column, or any perfectly targeted “have you seen this?”