It’s been a strange few weeks. I can’t remember the last time I felt so simultaneously grateful and happy on the micro-level—as in, the immediate circumstances of my life, and the good things in it—and despairing on the macro level.
As in: I am freaking terrified for our country right now, in its divided, deluded (in some quarters) state. I am weary and nervous, along with everyone else in the world, about this damned pandemic, and the pain it is causing. I am sad for the state of our climate and not terribly hopeful about our ability to halt the damage. I’m also mad at hell at the people in power who have let us get to this point through their indifference, inaction and ineptitude.
And at the same time, over the past six weeks I’ve had wine with a friend while looking at a gorgeous, Autumn-lit view of the Atlantic. I’ve spent two days alone, hiking in the White Mountains (where, yes, a BIRD LANDED ON MY HAND! And then proceeded to steal my Cliff Bar. Gratitude / maditude in a nutshell. But, fine, mostly gratitude).
I’ve picked blueberries with my mother in Maine amid rolling hills patchworked in fall colors. I’ve listened to my kids talk and laugh about their first days back at (remote) school over soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.
I’m still working my nice, white collar freelance job. My work hasn’t dried up yet. We have enough to eat and enough money in the bank. We live in the ‘burbs where we have access to lots of outdoor space, which allows us to see friends. We’re healthy. We’re OK.
I am lucky beyond measure. And at the same time, I’m also more aware than ever before that my “luck” isn’t entirely luck; I’m benefitting from a system that has lifted me up at the expense of other people. Yes, sure, there’s some actual luck mixed in as well. The lucky fact that I haven’t fallen down a manhole and died, for example, isn’t really the product of systemic economic and racial inequality. (OR IS IT??
It’s a weird, divided state to be in. Fear, hope. Anxiety, contentment. Gratitude, maditude. But it’s not exactly that I toggle back and forth from one extreme to the other; It’s ALL there, baby. All at the same time. One big messy knot of human awareness. Like a melancholy accordion tune played at a beautiful wedding. A messy death in front a gorgeous Maine ocean view. A black fly in my chardonnay (Hahah – just kidding. I don’t like chardonnay).
My approach to this sort of existence varies. Walks and runs and hikes, alone or with family or friends, are therapeutic. Taking political action—sending postcards, texting, calling—is satisfying. Escape via wine or food is good in moderation. (Sometimes I have trouble with the moderation part.) Reading can be nice, when I’m actually able to focus and do it. Buddhist-y / new-agey things like cleansing breaths and “sitting with the discomfort, noticing it, honoring it” work better than I’d expect. Conscious gratitude is a nice thing that I think is supposed to work better than I find it actually does.
Thinking about the scope and scale of the universe and my significance in the grand scheme of things is surprisingly effective. (See: the Life-Changing Power of Ancient Gum.) On the flip side, it’s helpful to shift my focus for a while to the very immediate—speifically my kids, whose resilience and adaptability in the midst of this pandemic, including their ability to keep engaging with their schoolwork, friends and activities, to the extent that they can, with full joy and optimism, has been an inspiration. My husband is pretty awesome, too.
But other times, man, I let myself feel the anger and frustration full on. I mutter “fuck your fucking fascist flag” when I walk past my Trump-flag flying neighbor’s house, chomping my lip with every “F” sound. I give the stink-eye to some dude in the bread aisle in an I STAND FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM! t-shirt, his mask dangling around his chin. I rip my mask off with extra vigor when I get back into the car after a trip to the store.
But: I try not to indulge that form of anger for too long. It makes my heart pound and my stomach churn. I can practically feel my cortisol levels spiking. (Hello, belly fat!) And that doesn’t help anybody or put anything good into the world. I push myself to redirect. I pick up a stack of letters to voters instead and start stuffing envelopes over a glass of wine. I breathe. It works. For a while.
What about you? What’s getting you through this shitshow challenge of a year?
I feel this down to my bones. Thanks for articulating the messed up mish-mosh of anxieties and guilt and fears and unmitigated rage that I experience on a regular basis. *hugs*
What’s getting me through 2020 is reading pieces like yours, having great neighbors and having a pretty good husband too. Thanks for a break from the chaos.
I’m so happy to see you’ve returned to blogging! I highly recommend high school debate – a designated 2 hours/day for screaming at top speed about policy proposals – as a mechanism to be less stressed about politics :). Thanks for your thoughtful response to all the ridiculousness that is 2020!
I was on the debate team in HS. I did a better job at age 17 than these adults in their 50’s – 70’s are doing. It’s disgusting. The first rule of debate is to stick to the topic and not attack anyone personally. Pfft. Our countries morals and decency and gone out the window decades ago and it’s only getting worse. I feel common sense and common courtesy are lost for good. Everyone is me, me, me and I think society did that. I raised my kids the old fashioned way. Responsibility, hard work, values, and a price (be it good or bad) for their actions. Few do that today. It’s a free for all and everyone is worried about their child or themselves and plays the blame game. It’s always everyone else’s fault, never their precious angels. Excuses run rampant to. Aww, he’s sad, mad, tired, bored, blah blah blah. Stressed. Hey, we are ALL stressed. Life is STRESS. Not an excuse.
Thank you Jane, gratitude/maditude, good summary.
A bird really landed on your hand! Neat!
All sides feel it. I get just as angry when I see people disrespect the flag which I do not in any way, shape or form consider fascist. I can’t stand when I see our cities burning and looting and attempted murder of innocent people and it’s allowed, rather than call in the National Guard and stopped immediately. I hate that the color of my skin to some gives me an advantage when it never did and never will. My personal story could be that of any woman anywhere on this planet regardless of skin color. I hate that I’m called stupid and racist for my opinions and hated because I stand by them. I’m educated (bachelor’s degree) earned while a single mom of two working full time. Yes, I had the privilege of going on 4 hours of sleep a night for 6 years! Lucky me. I’ve owned my own business, because I worked my ASS off for it and dammit, I deserved it. And it had nothing to do with anything other than my hard work, 12 hour days working to build it when my kids were teens. I want to scream when someone who has no clue what I’ve been through (NOT THE THINGS I MENTIONED) that’s no biggie, and thinks my life is a bowl of cherries cause of my skin color and that I’ve never known discrimination, hate, and unfairness (I HAVE – we all have) in one way or another and no one’s is worse than anyone elses. So this post hit home.
Hi Doreen — Thanks so much for reading, and for your comment. We’re definitely ALL feeling stressed and angry, regardless of our political opinions, it’s true!
To clarify: I do not think there’s anything fascist about the American flag. I respect our flag, as well as the right to peacefully protest by kneeling during the national anthem. I was referring specifically to the Trump flag, as I believe that Trump takes many of the same tactics and displays many of the same behaviors that fascist dictators have throughout history.
Regarding privilege: I would never suggest (nor would anyone in their right mind!) that because someone is white it means they haven’t struggled, or that their life has been easy. Indeed, there is vast inequality in this country that transcends racial lines. What I would say however, is that being black (or another racial minority in America) presents an ADDITIONAL layer challenge that white people do not have to contend with. That fact doesn’t make your struggle any less real, or your hard work any less commendable.
I still believe though that there’s more than unites us than divides us. We all want to feel safe and loved; we all want the chance for our families to be healthy and prosperous; we all want to be rewarded for our hard work. I hope that all of the above is true for you in 2020 and beyond.
Saw your name on the sign-out sheet for postcards a few weeks ago…with you on those letters to FL!! I feel hopeful that we have made a difference in getting out the vote there…home stretch now. Trying to get myself psyched to do phone banking.
Writing like this helps us get through! Please tell us that the bird was some type of sign from the cosmos, from nature herself, and not just a vertebrate looking for a meal…sweet lord we hope it’s so.