Guise, read this an think about that these same "journalists" write articles to incite the public with fake news. Now they are all claiming to be the victims.
All pussies.
All the same type of people who in grade school and beyond start shit their asses cannot pay up on.
Now after the shit is hitting the fan that they plugged in, "boo hoo, I am so sad and cannot deal" articles about their woes.
This article actually made me laugh as I give zero fucks about the media.
Now they are having nightmares about ME and YOU.
(at least the fake me and you they claim were at the capitol)
They actually say so.
They even admit they need therapists.
kek
https://studyhall.xyz/the-reporters-are-not-okay-extremely-not-okay/
FEATURES MAY 6, 2021
The COVID Reporters Are Not Okay. Extremely Not Okay.
An underprepared industry is losing a generation of journalists to despair, trauma, and moral injury as they cover the story of a lifetime.
BY OLIVIA MESSER
When I told my editors at The Daily Beast that I needed to quit my job as the newsroom’s lead COVID reporter, I couldn’t even say the word “quit.”
Even now, weeks later, it feels like admitting failure.
I was working my dream job in a newsroom I loved where I was writing about what felt like the most important beat in the world. I felt lucky to be employed and alive in the middle of a global pandemic.
But in between meetings and interviews and filing stories, I was falling apart. I was writing poems about suicide. I went whole days without eating at all. At one point, I collapsed onto the floor from dehydration. I was vomiting from stress. I developed a stye in my left eye. I wasn’t getting out of bed most days. I was crying all the time. My nightmares, in which I was shot or raped or watching coworkers burn alive in front of me, scared me so much that some nights I refused to sleep at all. When I wasn’t too afraid to sleep, I was still restless because I was too angry or too anxious or too sad or too filled with shame. I sometimes woke in the early morning hours with bile climbing up my throat and the simmer of heartburn in my chest. There were times I took sick days because I couldn’t stop sobbing long enough to string even a few pitches together.
I was struggling to stay above water when the footage of the January 6 insurrection triggered the post-traumatic stress disorder I thought I’d shaken years ago. By the time someone I loved died a few weeks later, I was already drowning.
I can’t remember what sparked it, but one night during dinner with my family I started dissociating. I was trying to figure out how they were experiencing joy, whether it was even real, what a smile looks like, and how I could emulate it. Soon afterward, I started thinking through the financial realities of quitting. I was finally numb enough to care more about curbing the onslaught of new physiological and mental fire alarms going off in my body than my fear of failure.
When I announced my decision on February 8, I just barely mustered the courage to be honest about it.
“While I’m tempted to be vague about my departure, I also believe it’s important to acknowledge the profound exhaustion, loss, grief, burnout, and trauma of the past year covering—and living in—a mass casualty event that has changed all of our lives,” I tweeted at the time. “For now, I must take a break. I know exactly how rare it is to have a support system and circumstance that enables me to acknowledge—and then act on—that fact.”
It had been clear for months that many of us were struggling. Still, the isolation of the pandemic had me convinced that my experience of drowning was unique, and that maybe I just couldn’t handle a hard job. But in response to those tweets, a chorus of reporters and editors — in public, via Twitter DM, and by email — chimed in to offer solidarity and to say they felt the same way. I heard the same things from TV, newspaper, and digital journalists, in Austin and New York, at outlets ranging from conservative-leaning to mainstream to liberal.
I have since interviewed a dozen local and national journalists. Many of them told me they do not feel supported by newsroom leaders; that they do not have the tools they need to handle the trauma they are absorbing; and that most of their bosses don’t seem to care about how bad it has gotten. Some said they are still finding themselves sobbing after meetings, between meetings, on calls during work, or when the day ends.
cont: