Journalists and mental health: Behind the headlines is a battle you may never see
A tired journalist. Being first responders to crime and accident scenes, working long, unpredictable hours under sometimes impossible deadlines, and being on call throughout means that journalists’ minds and bodies are always wired for action.
What you need to know:
- Being first responders to crime and accident scenes, working long, unpredictable hours under sometimes impossible deadlines, and being on call throughout means journalists’ minds and bodies are always wired for action.
- I remember walking the tightrope between exhilaration and exhaustion, often wondering if the price I was paying in pursuit of my writing passion was worth it.
Even though I left the newsroom two years ago for the NGO world, people still ask me if I miss it.
There's something addictive about the adrenaline rush that comes with scoops, exclusive interview opportunities, tight deadlines, and seeing your name in print, hearing your voice on the radio, or seeing your face on TV—especially that first time.
Being first responders to crime and accident scenes, working long, unpredictable hours under sometimes impossible deadlines, and being on call throughout means that journalists’ minds and bodies are always wired for action.
I remember walking the tightrope between exhilaration and exhaustion, often wondering if the price I was paying in pursuit of my writing passion was worth it.
At some point in my career, I exited from a work-related WhatsApp group because I could not deal with the constant dumping of images of crime and accident scenes that I couldn’t unsee.
Even the stories we interacted with as journalists harmed us. Someone introduced me to the phrase “trauma dump,” and I thought it was the most accurate description of what journalists go through—no matter which medium they worked in.
Some journalists turn to alcohol and drugs to cope, and some, like me, leave the newsroom. Sadly, some slide into holes so deep that it becomes impossible to get out.
Those who survive do so because of sheer willpower, their survival instincts, and sometimes because of the support of a good employer.
Perhaps the most insidious consequence of our profession is the gradual erosion of empathy.
I found myself on the receiving end of this callousness when I became a potential story subject after surviving a kidnapping ordeal that left me deeply traumatised.
Barely an hour after the police had taken me back home, a colleague called to tell me that they wanted to dispatch a team to my house so that I could tell my story.
I was offended by the interview request and turned it down. After I calmed down, I realised we were all victims of our profession.
If I were in the editor's shoes, I would also have dispatched a team for a “scoop”.
Ask journalists why they practise, and they will speak of their love and passion for the profession. But sometimes, love alone is not sufficient.
I applaud the brave journalists who have openly shared their mental health struggles, breaking the silence and stigma surrounding this issue.
For those still suffering in silence, I urge you to seek the support you deserve.
Perhaps you are not a journalist and wonder why you should care about their well-being. It is the humane thing to do.
Moreover, democracy, freedom, and your right to information are jeopardised when journalists are not okay. It is in our best interest to ensure they are okay.
The writer comments on social and gender topics (@FaithOneya; [email protected]).
