By: Gabrielle Sewade

On a hot and dry Friday morning, the grandeur of the Planet Hollywood Convention Center in Las Vegas was heightened with anticipation for another day of breakout sessions and networking opportunities. Students, professors, working, and former journalists from all walks of life had gathered in room six for an experience that would forever impact their understanding of conflict reporting and its profound effect on mental health.

Sean Carberry, a renowned journalist and expert in this field, was set to deliver his words of wisdom that would unravel the intricacies between these two subjects.

As the clock reached 9 A.M., the room was buzzing with energy. Notebooks, pens, and coffee were the three necessities for everyone in the room. Right away, he began sharing his personal stories and experiences from his career as a conflict reporter. He told us about what he saw in Afghanistan, Kabul, Libya, and Syria. The audience hung onto every word as he recounted the challenges he had faced, the people he had met, and the stories he had uncovered in some of the world’s most dangerous regions.

One particular story that Sean told had all audience members on the edge of their seats and on the verge of tears. He was in Sudan and was walking when he saw the U.S embassy. Without thinking, he turned around, took out his phone, and snapped a picture. In a matter of milliseconds, chaos had ensued. Four Sudanese men were aiming AK-47s right at him.

He said, “I had no idea what to make of it. I had never had a gun pointed at me before, let alone four machine guns held by amped-up men in a nation with a long history of civil war and genocide. I was a mix of terrified and confused.”

He quickly delved into the mental toll his journeys with conflict reporting had taken on him. He spoke of the emotional turmoil that often lurks behind the scenes of these heart-wrenching stories. Sean addressed the fact that in the world of journalism, most newsrooms don’t have a good solution to help these reporters. They are taught to emotionally distance themselves and to grow thick skin, but Carberry explained that reporters can only do that for so long. Sean emphasized the importance of acknowledging and addressing the psychological scars that journalists can bear.

The audience sat with eyes wide open, not wanting to miss a single word that came out, absorbing the gravity of the message. His words were not only informative but also deeply moving. He advocated for more comprehensive support systems for journalists who risk their lives to bring the world’s most pressing issues to the forefront.

Sean asked the audience to ask any questions they might have had.

A former journalist who now teaches college students stood up. He said, “I have a student, only 20 years old, who has been to places like Iran and Afghanistan to report on various issues. He is already showing some of the signs that he is not doing okay. How can I help him?”

I distinctly remember looking around the room and seeing the shocked faces on the other members who were there.

Sean put his head down, closed his eyes, and cleared his throat. After about 30 seconds of silence, he brought his head up and looked at the audience.

“Listen,” he said. “All you can do is let them know that you are there for them to listen.”

He continued, “We see, hear, and report on unspeakable things, and all we need sometimes is someone to share our experiences with to know we aren’t alone in this. This job can be very lonely and isolating sometimes, and talking, along with therapy, can be the medicine we need to keep going.”

Silence followed. Everyone looked around the room, and at that moment, I felt like we all shared an intimate moment together that would forever bond us as a group.

As the session was ending, Sean left the audience with a call to action. He asked us to foster a greater understanding of the vital role conflict reporters play in shaping our world’s collective consciousness. He asked us to support different causes that aim at prioritizing the mental well-being of journalists in the field.

The applause that followed his ending statement could be heard in the next rooms over. He left the audience not only inspired but profoundly aware of the challenges and sacrifices inherent in conflict reporting. This morning at the Planet Hollywood Convention Center was not just a breakout session but a journey into the world of journalism, mental health, and the powerful impact that storytelling can have on the human spirit, reminding us of the resilience, courage, and compassion that unite us all.

After his session, I was fortunate enough to continue the conversation with him and even buy his book “Passport Stamps: Searching the World for a War to Call Home.” I told him how in my almost three years at High Point University, mental health in journalism was not talked about. I quickly realized that this is a topic that student journalists need to advocate for more. We are the next generation of journalists, and if we hold newsrooms to a higher standard, then we can have a greater career.

I remember him telling me that a mentee of his had gotten a job at a local newsroom but left after a couple of months because they did not know how to handle mental health. He continued by saying that this is a growing problem among newsrooms because of the fast-paced digital age. We are sacrificing mental health to be the first ones to break the news.

I then asked myself, “but at what cost?”

Our whole job is to tell the truth and be objective. To give people a voice. To be the medium between the public and different events or stories. But are we supposed to sacrifice our mental health for it? Are we supposed to emotionally detach so that we become humans with no feelings?

I don’t think that makes us good journalists. We need feelings to get the deeper meaning of stories, to want to get meaningful interviews, and to be sympathetic to what is going on in the world.

But we can’t do it alone.