I knew I had a problem when I realised that my days were bookended with despair. My blood would be boiling along with the kettle as I listened to the radio while making my first cup of tea of the day, and I would go to bed either seething or feeling forlorn about everything that was going wrong in the world after watching late-night news shows.
It had all become too depressing and I felt useless. Environmental apocalypse, alternative facts, taking back control. I didn’t want to hear about it any more, which was a bit of a problem, given I was a reporter. Like a butcher who turns vegan or a podiatrist who goes off feet, it is hard to do your job as a journalist if you can no longer stomach the news.
Continue reading...
0 comments :
Post a Comment