What I Did Wrong the Last Time Around

My response in November to Trump winning the election was severe: I could barely eat or sleep for a week. I know I'm not alone in this response but it was physical and visceral and really, really shitty.

And I realized that my response was a reaction not just to the news but to my memories of how I dealt with the first horrible four years of Trump which can be summarized as NOT WELL. 

I spent four years freaked out and anxious and protesting and advocating and exhausted. Last time I made the mistake of thinking that if I wasn't angry I wasn't doing my part, as though I was holding up the world with my rage and if I stopped feeling angry for a moment, everything would collapse. Besides showing an embarrassing level of egotism, this response led to such severed burnout that by time the 2020 election rolled around and Trump was defeated, I didn't feel much joy. I was so fucking tired that I just collapsed in relief. And even after the Biden administration brought some level of sanity back to my daily life, I was numb and found myself still fighting off waves of depression. 

So on the day after the 2024 election, the idea of going back to that emotional state made me think FUCK NO and my body shut down.

This time around the horrors are much worse: smarter people than me are documenting the destruction being wrought on individuals and institutions and it is coming fast and furious. We are only three weeks in as I write this and it is clear that however long this administration is in power, it's going to be a shitshow of epic proportions.

But I've decided that the one thing under my control is my response. I will not go back to that state of despair and exhaustion. I am still protesting and advocating but equally important to my remaining functional is my daily mindset and so I'm adopting the following mantra:

Fiercely Protecting My Joy

(or more accurately)

Fucking Fiercely Protecting My Fucking Joy

As the oh so wise Rebecca Solnit says: “Joy doesn’t betray but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated, and isolated, joy is a fine initial act of insurrection. Let us be fed by revolutionary joy."

I'll be sharing a few things that help me protect my sanity and my joy here. Please feel free to share what brings you joy because we can use all the ideas available to us. 

Let's start with an easy one: people who make you laugh. Oh my god laughter is great therapy for anxiety and stress. Here is a 6.5 minute video from one of my favorite comedians, Chris Fleming (here's a link to his web page that lists his appearance dates). I was lucky to get to see him live at the Ark this past summer and I left with my stomach muscles aching as though I'd been doing a core workout for the whole show, that's how much I laughed. Maybe this video will help you ignite your own fierce joy today.

"Would it help?"

 

I don't know if it's normal to have a movie about the capture and prosecution of a Russian spy as your comfort movie*, but Bridge of Spies has helped me a great deal when I feel panic descend. (If you haven't seen it, or want to watch it again, go to the library and check it out. My library has 8 copies and since the movie came out in 2015 there's not a lot of demand so most copies are available!) 

Last year was a really hard year for me in so many ways. The biggest one was one of my kids had cancer. I won't go into too many details, to respect their privacy, but in early February they noticed a lump in their side and by the end of March a 4 cm soft-tissue sarcoma (along with a whole lot of surrounding tissue) had been removed. We were lucky: we got great care and have insurance and they are in good health now. But I bring this up because it was so sudden--the shift from good health to contemplating death--and the feelings I had at the time were a lot like how I feel now, with our democracy.

I won't belabor the cancer metaphor, but rather I'll share what helped me get through it: when I felt the panic and doom and pessimism descend I replayed the above scene in my head (the same back and forth between Mark Rylance and Tom Hanks happens a few other times in the film). The temptation to freak out would arise and I would ask myself "Would it help?" And the answer was always No. Freaking out does not help: it might feel good in the moment to lose it like a toddler but afterwards there is fatigue and collapse and maybe (depending on your childhood) a little bit of shame. But by asking myself the question, I was acknowledging the stress I was under and the fear I was feeling and that meant that the fear and stress weren't staying bottled up and festering and growing to the point where they would explode. I acknowledged them and then I was able to set them aside. 

I don't know if this will help other people out, but maybe watch the movie if you are interested and then give it a try. Once I got good at interrupting the freak out urge I discovered that I didn't just feel calm or stable or neutral, I felt surprisingly tender: I was better able to see and prioritize kindness and connection and love. 

*my other comfort movie is Fantastic Mr. Fox which is joyful and sweet and shows the little guys banding together to defeat the corrupt big guys which is also a perfect pep talk for these times.