Leveling Up, Doubling Down

Anyone else feeling like they just wanna pack it up, move out to a compound or a farm in the middle of nowhere, and live off the grid these days? It can’t be just me.

Especially now with so much currently being hurled at us from mainstream media, social media, podcasts, TikTok, and 24/7 news alerts.

It’s like drinking from a firehose. And this past week, watching the media blasting every hottake on Charlie Kirk's assassination, it feels like that hose is spraying acid.

You can’t even doomscroll in peace anymore. You get maybe three TikToks in before some rage bait pops up and kills your vibe, and suddenly you get sucked back in.

Tell me you haven’t been there. One minute, you’re laughing at a cat video, the next, you’re unreasonably pissed off at people you don’t even know.

Is it any wonder we all daydream about bailing?

What really bugs me is how the news presents this. They air clips of people gleefully spewing vile things in what feels like a blatant attempt to rile us up.

The overtone is crystal clear:
“See how evil they all are? Doesn’t this just piss you off?”

Well, yeah, of course it does. But why did you need to air that? Why did you think I needed to see that? Who decided this deserved oxygen?

We already know hell is other people, as Sartre put it.

(Look at me quoting French philosophers, I sound so smart. Meanwhile, I still can’t figure out the settings on our smart TV.)

So let’s just be so for real (as the kids in my house say): you don't care about informing anyone, you just want to provoke us.  

Other networks spin it differently. Some people admitted they didn’t agree with Charlie Kirk but still felt disgusted by the mocking and celebration.

Jamie Lee Curtis, a staunch Democrat and surely no fan of Kirk, broke down on the air over the loss of his life and the loss of human decency.

And of course, she gets mocked and challenged. “Whatever, she’s an actress, she doesn’t mean it.” Or “Guess I won’t be seeing any of her movies anymore.”

Why on earth would compassion offend someone?
Why does every damn thing have to be partisan?

Greg Gutfeld went scorched earth on The Five this week. I know much of what he said came from his deep grief; he’s just lost a friend.
But the media is using his grief purely for ratings and more division.

The media isn’t our friend, ya'll. We're getting hit from all sides.
Which is why it was jarring to see churches, of all places, hold themselves back.

Last Sunday, record numbers of people, many of them first-timers, turned out seeking faith and guidance. We were starving for clarity and comfort.

And for many of us, we got vague platitudes and a pre-planned service already slotted for that week. And it’s left me feeling… a certain kind of way.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s walk it back a few days.

The morning after Charlie Kirk’s assassination, I sat with my coffee in the pre-dawn hour and did the one thing I knew better than to do: opened social media. First mistake (we’ve all been there).

My feed was a flood of reactions: grief, mockery, patriotism, spirituality, vitriol, and plenty of people just trying to make someone else’s death about themselves.

I scrolled anyway, because that’s what we do when we’re searching for someone to say the thing that helps you make a little sense of all this, don’t we? Something to make you feel a little less alone in your anger and confusion?

It didn’t take long before I thought, “This isn’t helpful at all.” So I put down the phone, laced up my sneakers, and went for a run.

Now, here’s the first weird thing: I’ve got many playlists curated on my Spotify specifically for running that help keep me going. But that morning, I didn’t even bother tuning in to any of them.

I had woken up with an oddly specific song in my head, and it would. not. stop. So, I played Praise. For the entire four-mile run.

I have no idea why (although I think I may have figured it out just this morning—more on that later). I don’t even listen to Christian music except on Sundays at church, but that day, that song was demanding to be heard.

It didn’t fix my earworm, but I came away from that session with this internal pull.

Which was the second weird thing, that sense of awakening and responsibility I can’t put into words because it sounds embarrassingly like a churchy cliché.

But yeah, I woke up with this… call to do something to overcome this feeling of helplessness—a call to do better, to be better.

Maybe it’s just a need to do something when you feel so damn powerless against the sheer amount of ugliness in the world.

Maybe that’s why I found myself impulsively downloading apps to strengthen my mind and my spirituality. It’s like that same urge I had years ago to get my body stronger suddenly turned into a new push to strengthen my soul, too.

If you feel something, don’t just nod and scroll. Subscribe (it’s free) and join me in keeping these conversations alive.

I’ve never thought of myself as anything but an average Joe. I’m just someone who tries to do the right thing, screw up sometimes, and try again.

You know that phrase, “I love Jesus, but I cuss a little”? Yeah. That’s me.

But what I couldn’t shake off as I ran was how the online conversation had degraded: words chopped out of context to fit narratives, people trying to sound edgy when really they just sounded psychotic, and still others cherry-picking quotes while ignoring the context that would’ve invalidated their argument.

And underneath it all, the same undertow of misery, desperate to bait anyone paying attention into a reaction. Because once they can pull you in, you’re no different than them.

So, the very next morning, still feeling a certain kind of way, I went out on another run, intending to sneak a quick mile or two in before a very busy day. I pondered so much in my head that I eventually clocked over seven miles.

I had come up with the title and meaning for this piece, but not many answers.

So by Sunday, I was itching to get to church (rare for me. Not that I don’t enjoy it, it just felt extra necessary that day). I needed to feel like I wasn’t crazy, like my outrage and unease weren’t mine alone.

I didn’t expect all the answers, but I did expect at least acknowledgment.

What I found instead was a sanctuary packed with people, but a message that stayed intentionally vague. I heard of “dark times,” of “healing” and “hope,” but no words on the wound in our hearts.

Not even a moment of silence for a slain brother in Christ.  

They avoided what could have been, what should have been, a galvanizing moment for believers everywhere. From the same stage that hasn’t hesitated to speak on cultural flashpoints before, suddenly, there was caution and reticence.

That’s the hypocrisy that has left me pissed off and disillusioned.

Ministers who chose to play it safe missed an enormous opportunity to comfort and connect with people who were vulnerable and genuinely searching for wisdom, myself included.

Many who felt that first spark of the divine might now feel it snuffed out by the ambiguity of leaders they trusted to preach truth.

Now, I've already heard the “gotcha” arguments: “Well, church is for worshiping God, not Charlie Kirk. He wouldn’t have wanted the spotlight anyway. We don’t come here to elevate a man, so let’s keep politics out of the church.”

Sure. I get that. I even agree with most of that. But there’s a vast difference between idolatrous worship and purposeful avoidance.

A moment of acknowledgment isn’t veneration, FFS, it’s humanity. It’s grieving together, as the body of Christ, when one of our own is slaughtered in broad daylight.

Scripture is full of examples of God’s people boldly calling out injustice: Moses before Pharaoh, Daniel before Nebuchadnezzar, John the Baptist before Herod, and Jesus Himself before Rome and the Temple. They all spoke the truth when it mattered most.

I read Cardinal Dolan’s op-ed in the New York Post, where he asked, “How do we make peace?” and reminded us of Jesus’ words: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” (Timothy Cardinal Dolan, NY Post, Sept 17, 2025).

I agree, prayer and humility are vital. But what is prayer without clarity?

If a church sidesteps and won’t even speak to the issue, how are we supposed to start the healing?

That was my breaking point, because ambiguity is a position, and silence is a choice. You don't get to tell us to step boldly into faith and then turn mealy-mouthed the moment that faith is tested.

If a church won’t even grieve its own openly, then maybe it doesn’t deserve to call itself our refuge at all.

Charlie Kirk believed in bridging divides, pushing through propaganda, and having real conversations with anyone willing to have them. He spoke hard truths and had ideals that not all of us agreed with, me included.

Agree with him or not, that was free speech in practice.

I respected his intellect, but that doesn’t mean I signed off on every single view he held. So before anyone comes at me with that “hate” bullshit, let me save you the trouble; my household includes differing faiths, politics, and sexualities.

And we all love each other fiercely. Sure, we argue and we disagree, but intolerance has no place under our roof, and that’s exactly why it works.

So, forgive me if I roll my eyes when I hear the calls to “lower the temperature,” to “have conversations” through all this media hoopla. The man who actually tried to have them was murdered.

And the thing about Charlie Kirk is, just like every other so-called modern prophet, what you heard depended on the ears you were listening with. People could hear the same speech and hear either conviction or provocation.

One speech, two totally different takeaways. That's the way it's always been.

"Facts don't care about feelings" is true enough, but lets not kid ourselves- words will always be either misconstrued or purposely bent to fit somebody's narrative.

That's how MLK preached nonviolence and still got painted as dangerous before he was gunned down. That's how Malcolm X fought for dignity and got branded as a menace until they took him out too.

That's how JFK called the nation to rise higher, to be better, and ended up murdered in broad daylight. And that's how it's always gone for anyone whose words start to actually resonate.

George Carlin once remarked that the peacemakers always seem to be the first ones taken out. “Try to live together peacefully and then- BAM!’

Ain’t that the truth.  

Jesus Himself spoke of love and truth, and the same crowds shouting Hosanna were soon clamoring for His crucifixion.

And September 10, 2025, it was Charlie Kirk.

Their movements were growing, and that scared the hell out of those who profit from our division: politicians, media executives, and power brokers who need us angry and divided to maintain control.

Left wing, right wing...it's still the same bird that's never gonna fly. (How's that for a metaphor?)

It’s sad that in 2025, someone still thought shooting the messenger would kill the message. But Charlie believed the only way forward was to keep the conversations going.

That’s exactly what they're afraid of.

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Now, do I think I’m going to change anybody’s mind with all this? Of course not. Most people would rather protect their ego than risk any truth that might hurt their feelings.

I get it, that's just human nature.

And that goes for all sides, but I’m not worried about unfollows. In fact, I’ve seen more readers this past week (thanks for stopping in, by the way!).

All are welcome here, no matter what your beliefs are. That will never change.

(Shameless plug: if you’re new, hit subscribe (it’s free!) and share this with someone who might need it. And if you’ve got your own platform, hit me up. I’m always game for following each other’s work and keeping the conversations going.

And let me make one thing perfectly clear: this space ain’t for tiptoeing around the truth. Some people are terrified of calling evil what it is.

Well, I’m not.

If you can celebrate the senseless slaughter of anyone, this isn’t your space. My platform is inclusive, but it’s built on integrity and authenticity.

I hear people popping off all around me, on the air, online, and in person. But lately, I’ve decided to just sit back like Spock and think, “Fascinating.”

You learn a lot about who someone really is just by watching them. Even my twenty-something daughter, who disagrees with me politically and socially on just about everything, told me just this morning she’s had to cut people off.

She still knows what's most important.
And I couldn’t be prouder of her.

This morning, on my run, I realized why Praise wouldn’t leave my head when I woke up last Thursday.

As I was listening to it again, I realized that the lyrics reflect an almost defiant peace. Like, yeah, I feel like shit right now, but this world will never bring me down."

Like… how I've been feeling lately.

 I’ll praise when outnumbered, praise when surrounded, ’cause praise is the water my enemies drown in.

…my praise is a weapon, it’s more than a sound…

As long as I’m breathing, I’ve got a reason to praise…”

It’s a fight song. It names something in me I can’t even put into words.

But what I can say is that I feel this awakening, this sort of fire down below, and I know I’m not the only one.

That’s the part I want us to lean into. Because if it’s lit in me and it’s lit in you, then maybe we’re not as powerless as they want us to believe.

This is where “leveling up” comes in. It means refusing to get by on half-hearted faith and ambiguity, pushing myself to grow in every realm: spiritual, mental, even educational, so I'm sharper all around.

And maybe “leveling up” looks different for you. The details aren’t the same for everyone, but the point is, we cannot coast any longer.

“Doubling down” is the other side of that. For me, it means calling out hypocrisy, respectfully, but calling it out all the same.

And for many of us, doubling down might mean refusing to cave to pressure, or not mistaking gentle faith for silent faith.

For me personally, it means surrendering to God while standing ten toes down and saying with my chest, as the glorious mess I still am, what I believe, even when it’s not very popular.

It means always extending a hand in peace without letting anyone mistake your kindness for weakness.

Jesus loved, but He also flipped tables.

Leveling up and doubling down doesn’t mean trying to be a saint or someone that you’re not. It just means leaning into a truer, better, and more informed version of ourselves, fueled by defiance and a relentless drive to uncover what’s good in this world. And in ourselves.

That being said, we’re only human.

I don’t know about you, but I’m still probably gonna talk shit about certain people in private. (C'mon, we all have that mental list, don't we? I bet you're thinking of someone right now.)

Jesus might love them, but I’ll still think they’re assholes.

Look, I just want to meet Saint Peter.  I don’t want his job.

Like This? Read More Here:

• The Silence Was a Choice: What happens when saying nothing is louder than words, and how silence shapes our lives and the faith we claim.
• Murder Isn’t the Last Word: A raw reflection on Charlie Kirk’s death, grief used as clickbait, and why dignity matters more than division.
• The Weight I Still Carry: The hidden burdens we drag through everyday life and what it means to hold them, name them, and keep going.
• Beautiful Lies: How daydreams became survival tools and eventually the blueprint for rebuilding a life based on defiance, grit, and unexpected hope.

Heather P. is an essayist and longtime ghostwriter publishing unapologetic stories about trauma, reinvention, and the absurdity of real life.

Creator of Unfinished Business, a platform reaching readers in over 20 countries for its dark humor, emotional precision, and refusal of performative healing, whether the story is about grief, growth, or just getting through Tuesday.