Do you ever feel like life is moving faster than you can keep up with? I do. So I went digging into the history of how news actually traveled, and it turns out I wasn't imagining things. Life really has sped up. Let me walk you through it, because it explains more about your body than you'd think.
In 1776, news moved at the speed of a horse or a ship, and sometimes slower than the war it was reporting on. The Treaty of Ghent was signed in December 1814, but it took six weeks to cross the Atlantic. Andrew Jackson fought the Battle of New Orleans two weeks after the war it belonged to had already ended.
The telegraph closed that gap. The Associated Press started in 1846, when five New York papers pooled money for a courier-and-telegraph relay to beat each other on Mexican-American War news. By the 1870s, the AP wire was the backbone of newspapers coast to coast. When the first working transatlantic cable went in in 1866, European news reached city readers by the next morning. Rural readers, stuck waiting on the mail train, stayed weeks behind.
Radio and television took over in the 20th century, still riding on the AP wire underneath. Overseas footage could reach American living rooms the same day. Cable news pushed that down to real time — by September 11, 2001, people watched history happen live instead of waiting for the evening broadcast.
Today the lag is seconds, and the source is usually a stranger's phone, not a newsroom. Wire services and reporters still do the actual digging, but social platforms and algorithmic feeds decide what you see first, and they usually beat professional verification to the punch. Speed isn't the problem anymore. Knowing what's true before you share it is.
Here's what that means closer to home. A woman in 1776 spent her day on what was in front of her: feeding her family, supporting the war effort locally, running her house. Her stress was real, but she wasn't carrying Africa's wars or Asia's famines on top of it, because by the time that news arrived, it was already over. Even through World War II, women served their cause by investing in their own community. Worldwide events they couldn't touch were, for the most part, not part of their daily awareness. And when they were, it came through black-and-white photos and print — sterile, one step removed. Even the six o’clock news felt at a distance most nights.
Social media changed that. Now a plea to save trafficked children and a plea to save dying coral reefs show up back to back in the same scroll. We watch villages in Africa pillaged by rebels, children starving as civil wars tear countries apart, cities flattened by earthquakes and wildfires — all shot on the phones of people living through it in real time. Every influencer has a cause, and plenty of them want you to feel something urgent enough to act, whether that's guilt, outrage, or a call to fix something four thousand miles away.
I'm not minimizing what any generation before us dealt with. I'm giving you context for what makes ours different. When women in earlier generations felt worried, they could point that adrenaline at something in front of them and actually do something about it. Now, every time we watch a crisis unfold somewhere we have no power to change, our body still releases the same stress hormones it always has — as if we were about to step into that crisis ourselves. Except we can't.
Your body doesn't know the difference between a threat in your kitchen and a threat on your screen. It reacts the same way either time. And it's not just the news — it's the constant hum of social media running in the background of your day, quietly keeping your body braced for something it will never actually need to respond to. That's a real cost. It pulls from the same reserves your body needs for the stress you can't avoid.
If you're anxious most of the time, short-tempered in a way you don't like, sleeping poorly, or dealing with digestive issues that won't resolve, social media and the news cycle may be part of what's driving it. Try a sabbatical — no social media, no podcasts, no news, even for a few days. Let your brain settle. Let your attention come back to what's actually in front of you, and notice whether your body feels different.
When you're ready to bring news back in, I'd point you to The Pour Over. It's non-partisan, comes with Scripture and prayer built in, and delivers everything in short pieces — enough to stay informed without getting pulled into the emotional undertow of events you have no way to change.
