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Keep It Inside
Jan. 8th, 2021 08:30 am
I think it might be time to admit that I really don't know how to display emotions. Most of the time, when I try to openly talk about the way I'm feeling or my perspective, I can see people beginning to close off. The reactions I get are either uncomfortable silence, a quick deflection, or well-intentioned pushback telling me why my perspective or feelings are wrong. I often end up having to fight to justify the way I feel, or defend my emotions. Knowing that I have a mental illness, and that my perception is often skewed, makes that incredibly difficult. I can never be certain if the way I'm seeing things, or my emotional response, is "valid". Over time, I've learned that no matter how I'm feeling I'd better be quick to smile, laugh at a joke, be easy.
Right now I'm feeling angry and pessimistic, but I have no idea how to talk about it outside of this journal. I've seen with my own eyes how difficult it is to hold people in power accountable for anything, and how they'll use any trick they can think of to distract and deflect. Meanwhile, folks like me are responsible for everything we say and do, and a lot of what we don't say or do. The outrage I've seen in the media and in Congress feels performative, part of this contract we've made that gives us the illusion of consequences without the reality. It feels like we're mistaking the bombastic editorials and sound bites for actual action. Once the rhetoric has died off and "cooler heads prevail," everyone will just agree that it's "best to move on".
Only I can't move on. Armed white supremacists stormed the Capitol building and there's a non-zero chance that law enforcement at best looked the other way; and at worst, actively assisted them. There are reports that officers gave the rioters directions to Chuck Schumer's office. There's evidence of the police taking selfies with the mob. Even after the 6 PM curfew was called, police officers simply guided them away from the Capitol building. These were people armed with guns and zipties for restraining people. Who had "6MWNE" (6 million was not enough, in reference to the Holocaust) and "Camp Auschwitz" t-shirts. Who attacked a black bystander after leaving.
Some of these folks have been fired by their workplaces. A lot more have been identified and it sounds like the FBI is serious about bringing charges. Everyone's crowing about the fact that Trump's executive order means they could spend up to ten years in prison. But the tone people are striking is like the fact that they could means they will; and I just know there's no way that will happen. If any of these people get jail time, I doubt it will go beyond five years for the worst of them.
In the meantime, peaceful protestors were maced, tased, beaten, and arrested. Black men who were illegally selling cigarettes or using a counterfeit bill were killed by police and right-wing media has worked hard to justify those extra-judicial murders. People have reserved more sympathy for one of the rioters who died storming the Capitol than they have for many of the black victims of police violence. While people are talking about the disproportionate response between this week's attempted coup and this summer's protests, they've only been at the sound bite level. There's no talk of a deeper understanding of this broken system, and a shift in attitude towards fixing it. It's like we're all just sitting on our front porches, drinking tea, exchanging disapproving clucks and knowing nods.
I just don't have any faith in the system any more. I don't have any faith in people. Even those of us who see that this is all wrong have blind spots that mean we don't see how those same flaws manifest in us. Social media has made us addicted to this selfish righteousness, and we're throwing our effort towards making ourselves heard in the chorus instead of doing the work to actually change things.
The one person I see in the news cycle actually making a difference is Stacey Abrams. She organized locally, put boots on the ground, identified what needed to be done and did it. She speaks up when its important, but otherwise she lets her work speak for itself. We need more people like her, who are undeterred by failure in one avenue of attack. But then I think that if we did, the pushback would be even more disproportionately violent.
It's hard to accurately describe this feeling. In a lot of ways I feel like I'm drowning in this epidemic of crazy and I never learned how to keep my head above water. I feel a responsibility to do something but frozen about what, exactly, to do. Beyond that, there's so much going on with my family that I feel like I need to fix but have no idea how.
I want to reach out and talk to friends. I want to strengthen those relationships. I want to be more focused on the creative stuff I'm doing. I want to be more active and engaged. I want to be understood and accepted. But I don't even really understand myself. I spend so much time invalidating my own feelings and emotions it feels like I've lost the language to talk about them. I feel trapped sometimes.
But trying to explain any of this wouldn't really work. It makes people too uncomfortable. Most of the time, it feels like the best thing I can do is numb myself and try to make the people around me as comfortable as possible. That means laughing and being largely silent.
I think this emotional constipation is what's making it impossible to write. If I can't connect to my inner emotional life any more, how can I describe anyone else's?
Right now I'm feeling angry and pessimistic, but I have no idea how to talk about it outside of this journal. I've seen with my own eyes how difficult it is to hold people in power accountable for anything, and how they'll use any trick they can think of to distract and deflect. Meanwhile, folks like me are responsible for everything we say and do, and a lot of what we don't say or do. The outrage I've seen in the media and in Congress feels performative, part of this contract we've made that gives us the illusion of consequences without the reality. It feels like we're mistaking the bombastic editorials and sound bites for actual action. Once the rhetoric has died off and "cooler heads prevail," everyone will just agree that it's "best to move on".
Only I can't move on. Armed white supremacists stormed the Capitol building and there's a non-zero chance that law enforcement at best looked the other way; and at worst, actively assisted them. There are reports that officers gave the rioters directions to Chuck Schumer's office. There's evidence of the police taking selfies with the mob. Even after the 6 PM curfew was called, police officers simply guided them away from the Capitol building. These were people armed with guns and zipties for restraining people. Who had "6MWNE" (6 million was not enough, in reference to the Holocaust) and "Camp Auschwitz" t-shirts. Who attacked a black bystander after leaving.
Some of these folks have been fired by their workplaces. A lot more have been identified and it sounds like the FBI is serious about bringing charges. Everyone's crowing about the fact that Trump's executive order means they could spend up to ten years in prison. But the tone people are striking is like the fact that they could means they will; and I just know there's no way that will happen. If any of these people get jail time, I doubt it will go beyond five years for the worst of them.
In the meantime, peaceful protestors were maced, tased, beaten, and arrested. Black men who were illegally selling cigarettes or using a counterfeit bill were killed by police and right-wing media has worked hard to justify those extra-judicial murders. People have reserved more sympathy for one of the rioters who died storming the Capitol than they have for many of the black victims of police violence. While people are talking about the disproportionate response between this week's attempted coup and this summer's protests, they've only been at the sound bite level. There's no talk of a deeper understanding of this broken system, and a shift in attitude towards fixing it. It's like we're all just sitting on our front porches, drinking tea, exchanging disapproving clucks and knowing nods.
I just don't have any faith in the system any more. I don't have any faith in people. Even those of us who see that this is all wrong have blind spots that mean we don't see how those same flaws manifest in us. Social media has made us addicted to this selfish righteousness, and we're throwing our effort towards making ourselves heard in the chorus instead of doing the work to actually change things.
The one person I see in the news cycle actually making a difference is Stacey Abrams. She organized locally, put boots on the ground, identified what needed to be done and did it. She speaks up when its important, but otherwise she lets her work speak for itself. We need more people like her, who are undeterred by failure in one avenue of attack. But then I think that if we did, the pushback would be even more disproportionately violent.
It's hard to accurately describe this feeling. In a lot of ways I feel like I'm drowning in this epidemic of crazy and I never learned how to keep my head above water. I feel a responsibility to do something but frozen about what, exactly, to do. Beyond that, there's so much going on with my family that I feel like I need to fix but have no idea how.
I want to reach out and talk to friends. I want to strengthen those relationships. I want to be more focused on the creative stuff I'm doing. I want to be more active and engaged. I want to be understood and accepted. But I don't even really understand myself. I spend so much time invalidating my own feelings and emotions it feels like I've lost the language to talk about them. I feel trapped sometimes.
But trying to explain any of this wouldn't really work. It makes people too uncomfortable. Most of the time, it feels like the best thing I can do is numb myself and try to make the people around me as comfortable as possible. That means laughing and being largely silent.
I think this emotional constipation is what's making it impossible to write. If I can't connect to my inner emotional life any more, how can I describe anyone else's?
