When Did We Start Living in Permanent Crisis?
The news never stops, notifications never end—but is the world really as hopeless as it sometimes feels?
It can feel as though we are living through an endless series of crises—but much of that feeling comes not from a sudden collapse of the world, but from how constantly our attention is being pulled toward problems. The more we are exposed to every issue, everywhere, all at once, the more it begins to feel like everything is urgent, all the time.
There was a time when we caught up with the news once or twice a day—the morning paper, the evening bulletin—and then life carried on. Today, it never ends. Our phones buzz before breakfast, social media floods us with breaking stories, and before one crisis fades, another takes its place: wars, economic uncertainty, artificial intelligence, political division, climate change, crime.
Another alert. Another opinion. Another prediction about the future.
It creates the feeling that we are living in a permanent state of crisis.
But are we?
Or have we simply become connected to every problem on Earth, twenty-four hours a day?
For many people over forty, the pace of change feels unprecedented.
We’ve witnessed the arrival of the internet, smartphones, social media and now artificial intelligence. Entire industries have disappeared while new ones have appeared almost overnight. Jobs that once seemed secure now look uncertain.
It’s easy to understand why so many people feel anxious.
It has also become increasingly common to hear people talk about ADHD, whether diagnosed or self-identified. While ADHD is a complex neurological condition that has always existed, the constant stream of notifications, rapid content, and fragmented information can make it harder for anyone to focus for sustained periods. In that sense, modern life doesn’t necessarily create ADHD, but it can amplify the feeling that our attention is constantly being pulled in different directions.
Without stepping into medical territory, there are simple, practical ways anyone can experiment with to regain a sense of focus. Turning off non-essential notifications, setting specific times to check the news, or creating short periods of uninterrupted work can make a noticeable difference. Even something as simple as leaving your phone in another room while you read or have a conversation can help rebuild attention over time. These aren’t treatments or diagnoses, just small adjustments that can help create a little more mental space in a very noisy world.
Yet something interesting happens when you leave the screen behind.
People still smile.
Neighbours still help one another.
Families still celebrate birthdays.
Friends still meet for coffee.
Children still play in parks.
Life, despite everything, continues.
This isn’t about pretending the world’s problems don’t exist.
They do.
Some are serious.
Some will shape the next generation.
But if every waking moment is spent absorbing other people’s emergencies, we leave little room to improve our own lives.
The truth is that very few of us can influence world events.
Most of us can, however, influence our own health.
Our relationships.
Our skills.
Our finances.
Our communities.
Perhaps the greatest challenge today isn’t surviving a world in crisis.
It’s learning where to place our attention.
Attention has become one of the most valuable resources on the planet.
Every company wants it.
Every platform competes for it.
Every headline is designed to capture it.
The question is whether we’re giving it away too easily.
Imagine investing just thirty minutes each day building something instead of consuming something.
Learning a language.
Starting a business.
Writing.
Walking.
Reading a book.
Calling a friend.
Those small actions won’t make tomorrow’s headlines.
But they might quietly change your life.
Maybe that’s what maturity teaches us.
Not to ignore the world.
But to recognise that the loudest voices are rarely the wisest.
The headlines tell us what happened.
They rarely tell us how to live.
Perhaps that’s a conversation worth having.
If this piece resonated, perhaps it’s something to sit with—or to pass along in a quiet moment to someone who might appreciate it.