Soldiering On

This week has proved a sort of tipping point for me; I’ve almost been stunned into silence by the sheer lunacy of “celebrating” our country as it continues to plumb new depths of ignorance and cruelty. I’ve tried really hard over the past eighteen months to stay positive and strive to improve my little corner of the world, to keep my grief and outrage to myself, but the cognitive dissonance is overwhelming me lately. I feel a bit like a toy soldier who has wound all the way down.

Always a bit of a slow processor, it took me a while to notice that my resolve to stay on an even keel and live a life of joyful gratitude at times required enormous, not always successful, effort. This was not always the case (in fact, I’m sure that, early on, I nauseated more than a few people with my euphoric embrace of my new, grownup life). So, I did what any self-respecting perfectionist would do: I blamed myself. For not being stronger, not sucking it up, not being fully healed. Because, according to my subconscious, my current life is incredibly privileged, so I must be sad about all of my past trauma. And, for sure, some days the sense of melancholy and impending doom I feel does recall, and sometimes summons, those bad old days (one of my favorite writers referred to it as “multiplying losses”).

But the truth is (another one it took me a while to register) that I’m heartbroken about government-sanctioned genocide, homophobia, racism, and misogyny. About reversals of public health and climate protections that are already having negative effects. About billionaires partying while people starve or die from lack of health care.  Just as I learned with the other uncomfortable emotions in my life, I don’t need to dwell on these truths, but I do need to acknowledge them if I want to stay reasonably sane. And just as I did when facing the reality of my toxic marriage, I refuse to either buckle under or create a more palatable story.

I’ll keep doing the things I discussed here and here. I’ll keep doing, and fighting for, what I think is right. And I’ll be a bit gentler with myself: nobody is built to endure this sustained assault on their values and nervous systems.

Please, share what you’re doing to soldier on.

Ways I Found Joy This Week

Getting my hair cut and glossed and loving the result

Photographing the sunset on an evening walk

Reuniting with the CWP after an away gig

Visiting a new-to-me florist and watching him create a stunning arrangement for friends who are going through it

Things I Learned This Week

About dipterocarp trees, the world’s tallest tropical trees, that can draw water to branches as high as 30o feet

That a lobster’s brain is in its throat, and a shrimp’s heart is in its head (I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere)

Quotes That Resonated This Week

Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.

Benjamin Franklin

Patience and fortitude conquer all things.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

What I Watched This Week

Nomadland (Netflix). Missed this award-winning film when it came out. Hauntingly beautiful, at times achingly sad yet hopeful portrayal of people making meaningful lives after being left behind, financially or otherwise, by modern society. Incredible performance by Frances McDormand. 

And learning to delay gratification by watching weekly releases:

Ru Paul’s Drag Race All Stars (Paramount Plus).

The Vampire Lestat (Prime).

What I Read This Week

Go Gentle, by Maria Semple. Adora Hazzard is a fifty-something divorcee, a Stoic philosopher who is resigned to spend the rest of her days unpartnered so is forming a “coven” of like-minded women in her Upper West side apartment building. She starts to reconsider when a mysterious stranger awakens her interest, then suddenly finds herself in the midst of art theft and arms deals. Unforgettable main character and lots of fun.

Ghost Town, by Tom Perrotta. An author returning to his hometown after fifty years recounts the summer that changed his life. Beautiful portrayal of the surreal nature of grief and impressive snapshot of life in 1970s sheltered suburbia.

Missing Sam, by Thrity Umrigar. A woman fails to return from a run the morning after an argument with her wife, who immediately becomes the focus of anti-Muslim, racist, homophobic suspicion. A great examination of the effect of trauma on relationships and a perfect snapshot of our current social climate.

What Happened That Night, by Nicci French. Tyler Green has just been released from prison almost thirty years after being wrongfully convicted of a friend’s murder. He requests a reunion with the eight other friends who were there on the night in question, and history seems to repeat itself. Solid “locked room” mystery.

The Award, by Matthew Pearl. A young writer desperate for validation from a revered author who happens to be his new neighbor makes a choice that leads to a cascade of increasingly nightmarish events. Unsettling.

***

Thanks for reading!