Marketing while the world burns: how do you stay online when everything hurts?

It was literally just last year I was writing about how to “survive the chaos”, how to stay focused and hopeful during election season, mass unrest, humanitarian collapse.

That piece now reads like a time capsule from a simpler kind of doom.

Because somehow, the chaos seems to have only gotten louder. Meaner. More constant. And far more fkn absurd.

There are armed conflicts happening in nearly every corner of the world. Gaza continues to be decimated in real time. ICE raids are ramping up, tearing families apart. DEI programs are being gutted. The right is out for blood, the left can’t seem to unify, and everything - gender, freedom, language itself - is up for public debate and political weaponization. All while our algorithmic overlords are busy replacing facts with vibes and creators with AI.

And if you, like me, have a job that exists almost entirely online? Then you’re probably familiar with this feeling: How TF am I supposed to care about my content calendar right now?

Consider this a love letter to the people who have no choice but to keep showing up online, even when everything feels wrong and surreal and like you’re signing in to Textbook Doomsday Freaking 101. The strategists, the social managers, the writers, the brand leads. The freelancers, the creators, the email copywriters trying to make a skincare serum sound exciting while wondering if this is the week World War 3 breaks out.

You’re not broken for struggling to persist. You’re not too sensitive or unprofessional for feeling disoriented by this impossible tension: that everything is practically burning but you still need to post.

The internet has always been a mess. But this feels different, am I right?

There’s a particular kind of psychic whiplash in switching between headlines about mass displacement and your client’s latest product launch.

You go from a livestream of a real-life protest to mocking up carousel slides about brand storytelling in the span of 10 minutes. It’s disorienting.  But it’s the job.

It’s not just headlines either, it’s the whole internet itself. AI tools are flooding the web with soulless slop while misinformation is becoming indistinguishable from truth. Platform policies change overnight. Your feed has no memory, no mercy. You’re expected to respond in real time to a reality that’s constantly shifting, morally, politically and culturally.

I usually have something funny to say about this stuff. Some tongue in cheek cultural commentary to keep us laughing along and kicking rocks. But if I’m honest, the stakes feel higher than they ever have before.
Alas, the internet does not stop. And neither does your job.

And the matter of the fact is, no one trained any of us how to navigate crisis after crisis (after crisis after crisis)

We didn’t get briefed on how to ethically market a product during genocide. Or how to write empathetic brand copy when reproductive rights are being stripped away. Or how to hit our KPIs in a week when the air is too toxic to breathe.

We’re not public policy experts. We’re not mental health professionals. We’re just people with log-ins and loglines, trying to navigate the endless scroll of doom without losing our own grip on reality.

We were trained in campaign planning and content strategy, creative direction and copy for crying out loud. We got good at performance funnels and tone of voice. But none of us were prepared to operate as crisis responders in the middle of every crisis.

And yet, here we are. Still showing up. Still posting. Still trying.

So, how do we keep doing that?

Because “self-care” content doesn’t hit the same when you’re in fight-or-flight mode every morning. “Unplugging” isn’t really an option when your income literally depends on being in the loop. And pretending everything is normal feels a little insulting tbh.

Unfortunately, my loves, there’s no neat listicle or productivity hack that I can whip up to fully solve this shitshow, but here are a few truths I’ve been holding onto lately:

1. You’re allowed to feel it.
You’re allowed to feel hopeless, heartbroken, distracted, numb, angry. Feeling everything doesn’t make you less professional… it makes you human. Your empathy is not a liability.

2. You don’t have to “perform” your awareness.
Not every brand needs to weigh in. Not every post needs a statement. There’s a huge difference between being informed and being reactive. Between using your voice, and using it performatively.

3. Protect your inputs.
Curate your feeds. Mute liberally. Step away from the firehose when you need to. It’s damn near impossible to hold the entire world’s grief in the same hands you use to make sharp, thoughtful work, and you don’t have to.

4. Make room for both/and.
Yes, it’s a horrifying time.
Yes, your work still matters.
Those two truths can coexist. Holding joy, humor, beauty, and meaning in spite of the chaos isn’t frivolous, it’s resistance.

5. Be soft where you can.
To yourself. To your coworkers. To your community. The world doesn’t always need more hot takes, especially right now (and that’s coming from me lol). It needs more humanity. More gentleness. More grace. Just be fkn nice.

This isn’t normal. But you’re not alone.

If you feel like you're unravelling a little every day just trying to keep up, girl same.

If you’re doing your job with one eye on the news and the other on your nervous system GIRL same. If you’re trying to stay ethical and empathetic in an environment that rewards neither, same.

But we are not alone in trying to survive it.

So, this is my little digital forehead kiss to you. Because God knows I need one.

Your work still matters, as does your heart.

Even when everything hurts.

Especially then. 

-Sophie Randell, Writer