Chase The Kangaroo

“I do not take a single newspaper, nor read one a month, and I feel myself infinitely the happier for it.”

~ Thomas Jefferson

That quote hit me while reading a post on The Art of Manliness. It wasn’t the first time I’d considered stepping back from the news cycle—but this time, it stuck. Something about it rang true in a way I couldn’t shake.

So I decided to stop. Just for a week. No national news, no local news, no social media, no emails or apps that might try to sneak in a headline. Seven days. A full fast.

What I found was surprising. And, to be honest, a little unsettling.

The Habit I Didn’t Know I Had

I started on a Saturday. Not much felt different at first. But by Sunday morning, I noticed the silence. Normally, I’d have the TV on while cooking and eating breakfast—catching the Sunday shows, easing into the day with pundits, polls, and predictions.

Then came Sunday evening. For years, 60 Minutes has been part of my rhythm. It’s one of the last news programs I actually trust for its editorial style and substance. Missing it felt like skipping a standing dinner with an old friend.

But the real shift came Monday morning. That’s when I realized how deeply embedded news had become in my routine. I’d flip on the local news or Good Morning America before coffee, prayer, reading—sometimes even before feeding the dog. And I’d repeat the habit in the early evening and again at night. It wasn’t just information; it was the soundtrack of my day.

Withdrawal and the Shift

I missed the weather more than anything else. We were having spring storms move through, and not knowing the forecast felt oddly disorienting. But the rest? I didn’t miss it. Not the headlines. Not the drama. Not the political noise or local crime.

FOMO crept in now and then—especially when people mentioned something I hadn’t heard. But mostly, I felt a growing sense of calm. Like I’d stepped out of a noisy room and closed the door behind me.

My days opened up. I read more. I prayed and meditated more. Conversations with others moved to more personal ground. And I began to feel—visibly and physically—better.

I wear a health tracker, and even it confirmed what I was feeling: my stress levels dropped, my resting heart rate dipped, and my focus improved. I wasn’t just less distracted. I was more present.

What This Taught Me

This wasn’t just about the news. It was about attention. And habits. And how easily we hand both over.

The news—especially national news—turned out to be little more than a string of headlines with very little context or depth. I began to see how much of what we consume is designed not to inform, but to stir. To provoke. To prod.

“Most of the things that get us worked up have little direct impact on our lives. Yet, the world or society wants us to be outraged or afraid of this or that. But why?”

That realization was sobering. Because the more I stepped back, the more I saw how much space the news took up—especially at the beginning and end of my days. And how many more meaningful things could fill that space instead.

Moving Forward

I’m not quitting the news for good. But I am changing the way I engage with it.

I’m more conscious now of what I watch, when I watch it, and why. I’m asking better questions: What am I really getting from this? What’s the cost?

And maybe that’s the heart of it. This week-long fast showed me that time, clarity, and peace of mind are all things I can reclaim. I just have to choose them.

A Final Thought

I’m not turning this into a challenge or a manifesto. I’m just saying: if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed, anxious, or like you’re always behind… it might not be you. It might be the noise.

Take a break. Or don’t. But at least pause and ask: What would my day feel like if it didn’t start with outrage or end with anxiety?

Because, as it turns out, there’s a lot of life waiting on the other side of the news cycle.