Why reclaiming our attention is an act of self-respect — and how everyday courage shows us a better way.

Outrage used to be a signal — a flare our bodies sent up when something violated our values. Now it’s a lifestyle. A brand. A national pastime. And the human nervous system was never designed to live in a perpetual state of “something is wrong.”

Scroll long enough and you’ll see it: people snapping at strangers, assuming the worst, defending positions they don’t even believe in anymore. Everyone looks tired. Everyone looks braced. Everyone looks like they’re waiting for the next blow.

But in my work, I see something different. Something quieter. Something profoundly human.

The Physiology of Outrage

Outrage isn’t just emotional — it’s physiological. To understand why it feels so consuming, we have to understand sympathetic activation.

Sympathetic activation is the body’s “fight-or-flight” system. It’s the part of the nervous system designed to protect us from danger. When it turns on, the body prepares for action:

• Heart rate increases

• Breathing becomes shallow

• Muscles tense

• Vision narrows

• The mind scans for threat

This response is brilliant when we’re facing real danger. But when it becomes chronic — when every headline, comment section, or disagreement triggers it — the body never gets to return to baseline.

And the cost is steep: disrupted sleep, irritability, compassion fatigue, relational distance, and a shrinking capacity for nuance. Outrage narrows us. It makes us smaller than we are.

The Cultural Machinery Behind It

There’s a reason outrage feels inescapable.

• Outrage is profitable

• Outrage is predictable

• Outrage is contagious

• Outrage is easier than grief

Attention economies thrive on dysregulation. The more activated we are, the longer we stay. The longer we stay, the more we consume. It’s not a conspiracy — it’s a business model.

But just because something is profitable doesn’t mean it’s good for the soul.

What We Lose

When outrage becomes our default setting, we lose the very things that make us human.

• We stop seeing each other

• We stop listening

• We stop discerning

• We stop imagining solutions

We become reactive instead of relational. Loud instead of present. Certain instead of curious.

And yet — this is not the whole story.

Where I See Humanity at Its Best

Every day, I sit with people who are doing the opposite of what the culture rewards.

They are not performing outrage. They are not chasing the next spike of activation. They are not trying to win.

They are trying to heal.

I watch individuals face pain they’ve avoided for years. I watch couples repair marriages that once felt beyond repair. I watch people fight — truly fight — for what matters: self, family, marriage, community.

This is the part the world doesn’t see.

The courage it takes to tell the truth. The humility it takes to apologize. The tenderness it takes to stay. The strength it takes to try again.

These moments don’t trend. They don’t go viral. They don’t generate clicks. But they are the most human thing I know.

And every day, I’m grateful for the people who walk into my office and choose bravery over blame, repair over rage, connection over chaos.

Attention as an Act of Self-Respect

Instead of telling people to “be less angry,” I want to offer something deeper:

Your attention is sacred. Your nervous system is not a battlefield. You get to choose what you amplify.

A few practices that help:

• A 24‑hour outrage fast

• A pause-before-posting ritual

• A grounding breath before responding

• A simple question: Is this aligned with who I want to be?

Hope isn’t a feeling — it’s a discipline. And choosing where you place your attention is one of the most powerful acts of self-respect you can make.

Closing

The world doesn’t need more outrage. It needs more adults who can stay present long enough to choose love, clarity, and courage.

And if you ever doubt that this is possible, come sit with the people I see every day — the ones who are quietly, bravely, choosing repair.

They are proof that humanity is still alive and well.