A journalist’s guide to staying grounded

How to show up without losing yourself in the noise.

Photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash

This isn’t a guide to civil disobedience. I’m not a legal expert, therapist or activist. I’m a journalist and opinion writer who spent years covering unrest and trauma without realizing how much I was internalizing. I only began to understand the cost of being constantly “on” once my body, mind and relationships stopped bouncing back.

From that place — and by learning and collaborating with global trauma experts — I developed practices for reporting, interviewing and bearing witness that help me stay regulated, relational and responsive. These have grown out of what I have done right and what I’ve done terribly wrong. They are not exhaustive, nor are they tips on how to de-escalate threats. They fall under the realm of “prevention is better than cure,” enabling one to better recognize when they’re overwhelmed, disconnected or on edge. This allows a person to reset, reconnect and respond with greater clarity and care. I now teach these to storytellers, educators, students and professionals navigating high-stress, high-stakes environments, whether they’re street protests or a barrage of anxiety-inducing information on your phone.

(This clip is from a lecture I gave to the “Hostage Project,” a journalism and communications class on state-hostage diplomacy taught by Prof. David Ewald and Washington Post Press Freedom Director Jason Rezaian at the University of Oregon on April 2, 2025.)

When we’re frayed, so are our relationships. The practices and questions below can help discern what we need to restore the internal conditions that make trust and dialogue possible. In a democracy, that’s where everything begins. The goal is not just to observe what’s happening around you, but to witness what’s happening within you, and to meet it with care.

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Before: Ground in intention and self-awareness

Journalists generally check and re-check their gear before going into the field. Phone chargers? Camera lenses? Notebook and pen? We’ll map out the location we’re covering. Less common is a psychological safety checklist to prepare the body, mind and spirit for the intensity of showing up. This is vital to keeping our own personal battery charged. For anyone facing a high-stress situation, it’s important to prepare not just for logistics, but for how we want to be there. Before heading to an event or doom-scrolling the news, check these states:

Mental

• Clarify your intention. Why am I doing this? What values guide me? Am I doing this to witness, to speak, to support, to oppose?

• Clarify your role: How can my actions align with my values and intentions? How do my power and position affect how I move in this space?

• Know the context. Understand the local issues and organizers’ asks. Research beforehand rather than relying on those most impacted to educate you in the moment. Use this knowledge to engage, not extract.

• Familiarize yourself with your rights. Authorities are disregarding and actively violating civil liberties, human rights and the First Amendment, so the Constitutionally-protected right to peaceful protest and free speech is not guaranteed. It’s important to familiarize yourself with the ACLU’s protest guide to know your rights — and stay within them.

Emotional

• Check your baseline. Am I already exhausted? Anxious? Angry? Numb? Have I suffered loss recently or skipped sleep, meals or medicine? Noticing this helps determine if we’re off balance or on solid biopsychosocial footing, and what kind of engagement may be safe, healthy and wise for us and the people around us.

• Create a grounding ritual routine. How will I center myself before stepping into someone else’s pain or joy — either in a public space or by vicariously watching online? This could be deep breaths, a hand on my heart or belly, a walk, a mantra, stretching.

• Acknowledge your history and personal triggers. It took me a long time to understand how to balance the wisdom and strength of personal experiences, with the vulnerability they may create. It’s still a work in progress, and practicing self-awareness is key. Ask yourself: Does this event tap into personal trauma? Are there topics (violence, loss, identity) that could be activating for me? Is it healthy and helpful to expose myself to these experiences in this way, in this moment? If so, what’s my plan if I get overwhelmed? If not, what are other ways to participate so I can stay engaged in the long run without getting burned out or re-traumatized now?

• Set emotional boundaries. What am I willing — and not willing — to take on? How can I be empathetic to others but not neglect my own wellbeing? How will I avoid becoming emotionally flooded or blurring the line between someone else’s experience and my own? How can I disagree with someone without othering them? If I notice this happening, how can I get grounded again?

Physical

• Prepare like you would for a long hike. Get sleep. Stretch. Hydrate. Dress for comfort and movement. Pack light. Bring snacks.

• Pack grounding tools. Water, a familiar scent, a smooth stone, a note from a loved one — small things that help your nervous system settle.

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During: Be present, regulate and relate

When you're in the crowd, things can move quickly. Energy can shift. Your nervous system can go from calm to vigilant in an instant. These practices help you stay present and compassionate — even under pressure.

Mental/emotional

• Know where you are. Look for high ground, bathrooms, water stations, landmarks and exit routes. A crowd is like the ocean and can shift from calm to rough within seconds. Know which way you’d “swim to shore.”

• Orient often. Look around. (Not just through your phone’s camera.) Find a color, a texture, a face. This simple act helps anchor your attention to the here and now.

• Name what you feel. Are you tense? Hopeful? Scared? Recognizing your internal state builds capacity for choice instead of reactivity.

• Pedal in, pedal out. Enter and exit protest spaces with awareness and care. Pace yourself — arrive slowly, observing without becoming the center, and leave before you're overwhelmed. It’s about staying grounded so you can witness clearly without losing yourself in the intensity.

Physical

• Use your breath. Slow exhales can reduce stress. A hand on your belly or heart can signal safety.

• Take movement breaks. If it’s within your capacity, move your arms, stretch your spine. Feel your legs. Notice your feet on the ground. Your body processes overwhelm through movement. If these aren’t accessible, try box breathing. (Inhale, hold, exhale, hold — each for 4 seconds).

Relational

• Buddy up. Make a plan with someone you trust to check in regularly.

• Co-regulate. Sometimes the most radical thing we can do is help someone feel seen. Eye contact. A grounding voice. Gentle presence.

• Don’t assume consent. Ask before filming, touching, speaking to or on behalf of others — especially those more vulnerable to harm.

After: Integrate, decompress and reflect

The protest may end, but your body and mind may still be buzzing. Under deadline, journalists have to rush from the event to write, edit, broadcast what they witnessed. Others might experience something intense and then doom-scroll on their phone. Prolonging an adrenalized state can make high stress feel normal, which can wear on the body, mind and spirit. What we do afterward can help transform adrenaline into insight, and burnout into resilience.

Physical

• Downshift slowly. Avoid going straight into work or stimulation. Give your nervous system time to return to baseline. Even five minutes of stillness can help.

• Rest. Hydrate. Nourish. Your body likely used more energy than you realized. Treat it as if you just ran a race.

• Move and ground: Notice your breath, your body. Stretch, walk, wipe or brush your arms to reconnect with yourself and release the energy of what came before.

Mental

• Titrate: Limit exposure to graphic materials when editing or reviewing content.

• Tune out. Schedule downtime or “no-news” periods to reset your nervous system.

• Tune in. Ask yourself: What did I learn about myself? Did I use compassion, humility, curiosity and care with myself and others? What would I do differently next time? How can I continue to be of service in sustainable ways?

• Release judgment. Let go of self-comparison. Every experience is an opportunity for growth and healing.

Emotional

• Debrief. Allow space for emotional reactions — joy, grief, anger, helplessness —without judgment. Write, talk through or reflect on what you saw and felt. If you’re unable to name and move through them now, consider what support or resources would be helpful to do this later.

• Support Network: Connect with a friend, colleague, therapist, mentor, cat, dog, coffee barista. Know you’re not alone. Ask for help if you need it. After I covered the Jan. 6 Capitol attack, I had a colleague go for walks with me because the trauma made me afraid to leave the house. I didn’t want to talk about it, I just wanted somebody with me.

• Replenish yourself. Draw on your grounding ritual. What restores me? Connection? Nature? Humor? Do something that reminds you you’re not just a container for other people’s pain or pleasure. Say “no” to what doesn’t feel good.

• Honor the integration. You may be processing for days or weeks. Learning to metabolize intense experiences is part of the work.

Protest is a vital form of civic engagement, but it’s also an emotionally charged space where people’s pain, hope and history collide. If we don’t prepare our full selves, we risk bringing harm — whether by shutting down, lashing out or burning out. This guide isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present. When we witness with grounded compassion, we become part of the repair.

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Hi, I’m Kate, and I’m so glad you’re here…

After more than two decades reporting on democracy, trauma and repair from Cuba to Cambodia, and leading news teams through global upheaval at the Voice of America, Al Jazeera English and The Washington Post, I hit a breaking point on January 6, 2021. I was swarmed by the mob at the U.S. Capitol and defused the threat with humor and humanity. My Post colleagues and I won the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service, a professional pinnacle, and I gained something more: complex PTSD and a deep understanding of how broken systems impact our bodies, minds and civic fabric.

I realized that staying inside a compromised system meant suffering trauma, burnout and moral injury to keep telling stories about everyone else’s. In Jan. 2024, I left daily journalism to build something new.

I founded Invisible Threads, a media, education and action lab to trace what connects our inner lives to our shared world — and to remind us that healing isn’t soft, it’s strategic. Now, as a scholar at Georgetown and co-developer of a new framework for systems change, I work with individuals, communities and institutions to break inherited patterns of harm and build something sturdier: collective resilience. It’s not easy work. But it’s the kind that leaves a mark, the kind that remakes you as it remakes the world. I chose this path because I couldn’t not. And maybe, if you’ve read this far, you know that feeling, too.

Step by step together,

Kate

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