How to Go to Work the Next Day After You See Someone Die on the Internet

Yesterday, many of us saw someone die on our phones.

Not in a movie.
Not in a documentary we chose.
Not in a story softened by time or distance.

The news broke midday, spreading fast across feeds, timelines, and group chats. Suddenly the image, the video, the reality of it, was everywhere. You didn’t have to look for it. For many of us, it landed while we were eating lunch, walking between meetings, or scrolling during a break. There was no preparation, no time to brace yourself, only the abrupt collision of a violent death with an ordinary day.

And then the next morning came. Alarms went off. Coffee was poured. Emails waited. Patients needed care. Meetings stayed on the calendar. The world asked us to function as if we hadn’t just absorbed something violent and irreversible.

If today feels heavy, foggy, surreal, or wrong...there is nothing wrong with you.

What actually happened to you

When you witness death, whether in person or through a screen, your nervous system responds as if you were there. The brain does not neatly separate “online” from “real life” the way culture pretends it does.

Your body registered:

• Threat
• Helplessness
• Grief
• Shock

This can show up as insomnia, nausea, dissociation, irritability, or a strange emotional flatness that makes you feel guilty for not feeling more.

This isn’t weakness. It’s biology. This is vicarious trauma. Not because you sought it out, but because modern life makes witnessing other people’s worst moments unavoidable.

Why “just don’t watch it” isn’t a real solution

You didn’t consent to seeing this.

Algorithms move faster than choice. Violence spreads faster than context. Community grief now happens online, whether we want it to or not. Telling people to “just log off” ignores how information, care, warning, and connection now move through the same channels.

This isn’t about being “too online.”
It’s about living in a world where suffering is broadcast without containment. Your nervous system paid the price for that.

The strange cruelty of the next workday

There is something uniquely disorienting about witnessing death in the evening and being expected to perform normalcy by morning.

You are asked to:

• Be polite
• Be productive
• Be emotionally available
• Be regulated

…while carrying an image your body hasn’t had time to process.

If today feels like you’re moving through water, that makes sense.

How to actually get through the day (without pretending you’re fine)

This is not about optimization or “powering through.” It’s about reducing harm and regaining agency.

1. Lower your internal expectations, with intention.
Aim for about 60-70% of your usual capacity. This is not a failure day. It’s a recovery day inside a functioning world. If all you do today is show up and not fall apart, that counts.

2. Choose one grounding anchor
Not a whole routine. Just one.

• Cold water on your wrists
• Your feet firmly on the floor before meetings
• Slow exhale breaths longer than your inhale
• Brief movement between tasks

One anchor is enough to remind your body that you’re here, now, and safe enough.

3. Start at the bottom of the pyramid
If everything feels overwhelming, go back to Psych 101. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs exists for a reason.

Hydrate. Eat something nourishing. Rest your eyes. Sit down if you’ve been standing too long. Move if you haven't recently.

When the nervous system is activated, higher-order coping skills don’t land. You don’t reason your way out of dysregulation. You resource your body back into safety. Meeting basic needs isn’t avoidance or weakness; it’s regulation. Before asking yourself to process, reflect, or make meaning, ask a simpler question: Have I met my most basic physical needs today?

4. Limit re-exposure
Rewatching, rereading, or scrolling comments doesn’t help your nervous system “process.” It keeps it activated. Staying informed is different from staying flooded. You’re allowed to step back.

5. Name it vaguely if you need to
You don’t owe details.

• “I didn’t sleep well. heavy news.”
• “I’m a little off today.”

Let someone know something without carrying it alone.

What not to do

• Don’t force gratitude
• Don’t shame yourself for being affected by someone you didn’t know
• Don’t compare your reaction to anyone else’s
• Don’t demand immediate insight or closure from yourself

There is no prize for intellectualizing trauma faster than your body can metabolize it.

Let the activation move somewhere

Strong emotions are already here: anger, grief, fear, protectiveness, resolve. Trying to suppress them doesn’t make them disappear, it just drives them underground, where they come out sideways.

The work is not to eliminate activation, but to channel it wisely. This is where wise mind matters, not impulsive reaction, but intentional action aligned with your values.

We are living in a moment where it is increasingly clear that the state is not only unable to care for people, it is often directly harmful. When systems fail, nervous systems feel it first. That doesn’t mean you’re powerless. It means the locus of care shifts closer to home.

This is a meaningful time to:

• Vote with your values when and where you can
• Show up locally, not abstractly
• Check on your neighbor
• Be present with your family
• Offer steadiness where institutions offer chaos

Everything the state isn’t doing for you, start doing -within reason- for others.

This isn’t martyrdom or burnout disguised as virtue. It’s relational resistance. Caring for one another, tending to basic needs, staying connected, and choosing not to turn away from each other is a powerful counterforce to systems that thrive on isolation and overwhelm.

A life with meaning is not built by avoiding pain, it’s built by responding to it with integrity. And that kind of meaning, connection, and care creates resilience that no algorithm, policy failure, or violent spectacle can fully erode.

A quiet truth we don’t say enough

You witnessed something real.

Grief does not require proximity. Shock does not require permission. Being impacted by another person’s death does not make you fragile. It makes you human.

Going to work today doesn’t mean you’re okay.
It means you’re surviving in a world that rarely pauses for collective harm.

And survival, today, is enough.

Be gentle with yourself. Stay hydrated. Nourish your body. Ground your mind. Move through your emotions with intention.

You don’t need to be untouched to keep going. You need to be present and aligned with your values. That is resilience. That is care. That is action. That is enough.

🖤Kas