Resist, for your own emotional health

Ya’ll, it’s been a rough weekend. And I say that from a super privileged place, I slept in a comfortable bed, in my own home, with plenty to eat and plenty to wear and WiFi at all times and the Cheeto in Chief was not issuing Executive Orders that directly affect me, my family, or my livelihood. I am ridiculously lucky not to have been born in Aleppo, or Libya, or, Flint, Michigan.

For most of the fall, since the election, actually, I have been living in a state of general panic and anxiety, some election related, some general life stuffs. I joined groups dedicated to building bridges, trying to work together, trying to understand…and I think that is important, and meaningful.

HOWEVER, the response in the last few days has done so much more to heal my heart. The sheer numbers of people who are determined to stop the psycho in any way they can has renewed my faith in humanity, honestly. It has renewed my faith in (some) Americans. I know there are many many people who are thrilled with the Cheeto’s election and his actions this last week, and I have so many things to say to them, the least of which is “fuck off.” But, in the interest of keeping it civil, I am choosing right now not to engage. For me, there are much better ways to spend my time and energy, and seeing the cavalry show up in similar ways is lifting my soul.

  • The ACLU has received almost $20 million in donations since the White House ban on immigration, they usually get $3-$4 per YEAR in donations.
  • Tens of thousands of people have shown up at airports and state houses around the country to protest the ban on immigration from carefully selected Muslim-majority countries (where Mr. Cheeto doesn’t have any business interests).
  • Last week hundreds of thousands of women around the country marched to be heard, to be seen, to assert that we have rights and we are a force to be reckoned with.
  • The National Parks Service has gone rogue in defiance. Ditto the State Department and almost every science-based national organization in defiance of the bullshit coming from the White House.
  • Millions of people are protesting on other forms, posting on social media, rallying, RESISTING.

THIS is the America I am proud of, the ones who get their boots on the ground and DO the thing. We jam up congressional staffers, we writer letter, sign petitions, make call after call after call…and then when none of that works? We show up with signs, we make noise, we refuse to back down. This type of action makes me happier than anything has since the election.

Keep it coming, America.

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P.S. Do you remember in The Hunger Games when Katniss ends up with Peeta and her reasoning is because Gale was too into fighting, too committed to The Cause, and she just wanted to live her quiet life with Peeta because he knew what she’d been through and would help and support her? That aggravated me to no end, although who I am to dictate her love preference. BUT! The rationale that she should reject him because he continued to fight the worst kind of dictator in all the land rang so hollow to me. (I also really hated Book 3 in general and the ending specifically, so there’s that.) Gale would be wearing a pink pussy hat and marching with the feminists. Gale would be at the airport with signs and snacks. Gale would be calling his congressional representatives every damn day and his timeline will be full of resistance and revolution against the forces that are trying to destroy his country. Gale will not go softly into the night. Be like Gale.

The beginning of the end (probably)

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Today is not a day for celebration.

Today is a day for mourning.

All is not right in the world and the fear of what is to come is twisting my stomach into knots. And the thing that scares me the most is that all those (lovely, well-meaning) people who keep saying This is not America. This is not the real America… well, they are kind of wrong. This is happening. He may not have won the popular vote, but America has not risen up with enough force to change that.

I am attending my local Congressional District meetings. I am calling my national elected officials to complain about national issues, and my local elected officials to complain about local issues. I am DOING THE THINGS.

And some of my complaints (and thousands and thousands more like mine) have made some changes, halted some heinous legislation, and have made a difference.

But.

He takes office today. His henchmen/women will quickly follow. Our world will probably never be the same.

I’m with her. I’m still with her. She is not perfect, but, people, she is not this.

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A different kind of shopping: Giving Tuesday

I finished my Christmas shopping last weekend, I get super anxious having it wait any longer than mid-November, honestly. I set aside dollars for my Christmas budget January – October, so there is no reason for me to really wait. Also, I loathe Black Friday, so waiting for some discounts doesn’t factor into my thinking at all.

So, I skipped out of Black Friday, and Cyber Monday, and am getting a jump on Giving Tuesday. And if you’re hunting down the deals today, that’s cool, but consider throwing some dollars to some local and national organizations as well.

Planned Parenthood, in honor of Mike Pence, of course
National Organization for Women
American Civil Liberties Union
Southern Poverty Law Center
Standing Rock Reservation
Black Lives Matter
Water for Flint, Michigan (yep, they still don’t have safe water)
Dressember, fighting for freedom for current slaves worldwide
Aleppo, Syria Child Refugee Crisis (through UNICEF)
The Red Cross (all donations today will be matched)
Your local LGBQT activism group
Your local political party precinct
Your school board/district foundation
Your local K-12 school (their Arts department? Library?)
Your local humane society
Your local library
A local or national church organization that promotes equality and protecting the vulnerable, downtrodden, and oppressed (I should not have to specify, but not all church or religious organizations do this).

Thanksgiving just happened, let’s try not to forget all the privilege we have and our responsibility to help those who have less. Donations don’t have to be huge, $10 dollars to a few organizations that champion a cause you are passionate about can truly make a difference. If this last election disaster season has taught me anything, it is that EVERY single person counts, the little seemingly insignificant daily acts we do matter.

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Coming out of the fog

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Tonight I went to my first legislative district meeting, ever. I mean, I didn’t say anything, I clapped and supported and listened, but I showed up. I even donated the $8 I had in my wallet to their “we need to bump up our social media!” cause (and then I checked out their Twitter page, and uh, yeah you do. For the WHOLE of 2016 you have exactly two tweets. Monkeys and toddlers regularly do better than that!). Is one meeting for my super-local political precinct going to change the world? No. It’s not. But it is something. And, to be completely honest, it seems a lot more manageable to get my boots on the ground in my neighborhood than to somehow influence national politics (or, truthfully, more manageable than trying to have a conversation that will change the minds of my Trumpist relatives).

I’m not sure what my next steps are, I’m definitely planning on going back to my leg district meeting in December, and I offered to help their cause in any way I can (public speaking/presenting, writing, social media (PLEASE, let me help you!), event planning, whatever). I’m serious about this. If we want love to win, we have to treat love as a noun, as an action-word. (Coincidentally, I wrote a pretty rockin’ post about that back in July that I just re-read, and I like it more now than I did then. You should go read it too.) (Actually, in reading through the few posts under my own Social Activism label….this change for me has been brewing for months, it has taken me a while to get to the point that I can no longer sit still.) (I’m done with the parenthetical now, I swear.)

I don’t have some big announcement to nicely wrap up this post with a tremendous Ta-daaah! But I do want to call you to action, whatever that action means in your world, to do something to improve your local or national government. Is that donating the $8 in your wallet to a cause you care about? Does that mean getting involved in your local politics and elections for city council, or school board, or water conservation board? Does that mean volunteering at your local elementary/jr high/high school to help students achieve X, Y, or Z? What does that mean for you? When you figure that out, even if it’s one simple thing, do that thing.

It’s up to us, ya’ll.

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Not yet. But, soon.

For months I have been struggling, I’ve written about that struggle here a little, and I’ve internalized it a lot. I’ve suffocated panic attacks, and also let them destroy me in the dark hours in the middle of the night, leaving me exhausted but finally able to sleep. I’ve sobbed through books and songs that are not sad, I’ve been desperate for understanding. I managed to allow myself a little bit of hope. My struggles are not on a single track, it seems an entire web of hurt and pain and fear has been slowly closing in on me, slowly squashing the happy and sunny parts of my life, replacing it with dead shadows. I want to be clear that this is not entirely political, but the combination of politics, the hurts of humanity, my own relationships and my own demons. It is a very complicated web that I am tangled in, and it seems the struggle has only made the tangle messier.

For me, that web all came crashing down last Tuesday, watching in horror, sobbing in anger and fear, as state after state turned red. There are a lot of shitty things in the world, and also a lot of goodness. But on Tuesday night The Shit won. When you’re already walking on a tight rope, trying to balance and measure every step, it doesn’t take much to make you fall. I wore black the next day, in mourning. I have retreated some more, probably to a scary degree, actually. I am grieving the loss of so many things, and I cannot be comforted.

My entire life I’ve taught my heart to throw up walls, to grow spikes, to protect itself. For the majority of my adult life I’ve tried to remind myself not to build the wall and cultivate the spikes. I’m a warrior who is at war with herself. Years ago I received a piece of advice I think of often, but sometimes am incapable of the required follow through: Insulate yourself from the hurts of the world so that you may move forward shielded by your own, conscious strength. I’m still not 100% sure what that means, how do you insulate something without burying it in impenetrable layers? How do you move forward without turning into a prickly monster?

This is a puzzle I continually solve and then forget the answer. So I have to start at the beginning, again and again. It is exhausting. My unexpected, very emotional spiral immediately following the 2016 election is another setback for me, I’ve taken some time to be angry, and sad, and depressed. I’m not quite to the acceptance stage yet, I’m resolved to never refer to him as “President” but I’m also not (seriously) planning to move to New Zealand or Sweden or The Bahamas. But I am closer to moving forward. There is work to do, and I will sign up for all of it.

I’m not ready yet to sound my battle cry, I’m still picking up the pieces. But, soon.

Soon.

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