Hysterical and Useless
Sep. 13th, 2021 06:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebe
I think I've spent the last year or so actively hiding from what I'm feeling from moment to moment, and it's resulted in me just...not being emotionally present. It started last summer, when George Floyd was all over my Twitter feed and I was just filled with an impotent anger, a deep sadness, and a bone-weariness that I couldn't do anything about. People were protesting, and I felt compelled to do something, but...it was really dangerous out there and we were in the middle of a pandemic. So I just kept refreshing my feed and swallowed the feelings it generated because there was just no other place to put it.
Every day there was fresh video of police brutality against protestors and media. 45 was in full campaign mode, implicitly approving the abuse as well as the counter-protests from the Proud Boys and other folks who had been active since Charlotteville, the "very fine people" he tended to encourage in his rallies. And there were more reports of abuse and death by police all through the summer, with unions and fraternal organizations saying they wouldn't put up with any kind of check on their operation. It felt like police could do anything they liked to you and there wasn't any recourse you could take to get justice.
As a Black man, I was scared to go outside. I didn't know if I would catch COVID or run into a police officer, and either one of those had the capacity to ruin my life. We were facing an election between 45 and Joe Biden, the man who had never won the nomination in who knows how many tries. Biden was unpopular with the Twitter Left, who would rather have seen Bernie (of course) or Elizabeth Warren. There were arguments between folks who were willing to walk away from the Democratic Party entirely and those of us who thought this election was way too important to break ranks now -- everything was on a razor-thin edge. Polls had Biden winning handily, and conventional wisdom said that Trump's own record as President would likely sink him since he had never really polled above a 50% approval rating. But I remember Bush beating Kerry in 2004; and the shock of Trump taking the electoral vote in 2016 was fresh in my mind. We really couldn't take anything for granted.
The fiery protests of summer gave way to online flame wars in fall and winter. When Biden took the election in November there was a tremendous relief that was only hampered by the persistent lie of fraud. There was also the special GA Senate election that would determine whether Biden would actually get to do anything from the White House for at least two years. It was really unlikely that Democrats would win a narrow majority -- but then they did.
Breakthrough vaccines were announced. Rhetoric about the 'stolen election' ramped up until January 6th, when a semi-organized mob stormed the Capitol Building and threatened to kill members of Congress. Trump was impeached for a second time, and despite the fact that he obviously whipped this crowd into a frenzy that could have resulted in the death of even GOP members, not a single Republican moved to convict him. Biden was inaugurated, and for the first time it felt like we could actually move forward.
But there's the bill for climate change come due. In CA, we didn't really have a winter and no rain to speak of. The news is dominated by reports of wildfires here in the West, hurricanes devastating Atlantic islands and the East coast, and COVID taking far too many lives in between because people, incredibly, think their freedom to catch whatever they want is more important than helping all of us keep healthy and safe.
Our infrastructure is crumbling. We are in no way prepared for the extreme weather that will become the norm in just a few years. Republicans are infiltrating state and local governments to make it harder for democracy to work. Our economy is guttering because we won't do the necessary things to make sure it can reopen safely. The Left is eating its own tail with increasingly illogical call-outs and demands of purity so it feels like the movement is fracturing at the exact moment it should be galvanizing. Trump is waiting in the wings for 2024, where legislatures in battleground states have made it increasingly difficult to vote. This brief reprieve of even mild competence could be taken away; Democrats could lose the House and/or Senate in 2022, and the GOP could retake power of the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial Branches entirely in 2024. It's possible at that point, they'll rig the game so they never have to give it up.
And all the while, the world is getting hotter, the social fabric is unraveling more quickly, and all of us are stewing in our fear and anger. It really doesn't feel like anything will get better.
It's been impossible for me to be clear-eyed about all of this. I can't sit with the feeling of inevitable doom day in and day out. I see the latest injustices in the news, or the latest tempest in a teapot on Twitter, or the latest news of the apocalypse on the horizon, and instead of feeling angry or afraid I just feel...numb. And that numbness is actually worse than anything else.
So I smoke. And smoking makes me feel...well, like I'm actually having emotions. I feel more connected and more relaxed, but deep down I know that's a bit of a smokescreen. Marijuana is a warm fuzzy blanket I wrap myself in to hide from the world. Because seriously, have you seen what it's like out there? There's no hope for us. We had our chance and we blew it. All that's left is watching the chickens coming home to roost, one by one. More hurricanes. More wildfires. The creeping vines of fascism choking any chance of progressive democracy flourishing in this environment. Heat waves. More pandemics. The steady decline of social services until they collapse under the constant weight of ever-increasing catastrophes. More alienation. More anger. More fear.
I hide from the knowledge that the world is ending and there's nothing I can do about it. What's worse, I can't muster up the energy to care as much as I should. I'm exhausted. And that makes me feel guilty, because who isn't exhausted right now? I can't handle the anxiety of living in this world on my own two feet. Meditation isn't enough. CBT isn't enough. Nothing is enough. But what can I do about it?
Marijuana has felt like the best, least harmful way to keep moving forward, but...I don't think I want that kind of life either. I don't know what to do here. I guess that I'll take a break and try to deal with the feelings that come back to me. Even the numbness. Facing the emotions that I've found too difficult for the past two years is just something I have to do if I'm going to be the kind of person I want to be when the world ends. I have to work through the pain and anxiety and resentment somehow. I have to face what I'm feeling.
I'm hoping that diving back into writing will help with that. Seeding my protagonists with the difficult emotions or habits I'm working through can help me have that conversation with myself, work shit out, and maybe come to a healthier place with it all. None of this will change the fact that there's little hope for things to improve over the next, say, 20 years. But at the very least I can begin to make peace with it. Or create art that means something to me in the process.
Every day there was fresh video of police brutality against protestors and media. 45 was in full campaign mode, implicitly approving the abuse as well as the counter-protests from the Proud Boys and other folks who had been active since Charlotteville, the "very fine people" he tended to encourage in his rallies. And there were more reports of abuse and death by police all through the summer, with unions and fraternal organizations saying they wouldn't put up with any kind of check on their operation. It felt like police could do anything they liked to you and there wasn't any recourse you could take to get justice.
As a Black man, I was scared to go outside. I didn't know if I would catch COVID or run into a police officer, and either one of those had the capacity to ruin my life. We were facing an election between 45 and Joe Biden, the man who had never won the nomination in who knows how many tries. Biden was unpopular with the Twitter Left, who would rather have seen Bernie (of course) or Elizabeth Warren. There were arguments between folks who were willing to walk away from the Democratic Party entirely and those of us who thought this election was way too important to break ranks now -- everything was on a razor-thin edge. Polls had Biden winning handily, and conventional wisdom said that Trump's own record as President would likely sink him since he had never really polled above a 50% approval rating. But I remember Bush beating Kerry in 2004; and the shock of Trump taking the electoral vote in 2016 was fresh in my mind. We really couldn't take anything for granted.
The fiery protests of summer gave way to online flame wars in fall and winter. When Biden took the election in November there was a tremendous relief that was only hampered by the persistent lie of fraud. There was also the special GA Senate election that would determine whether Biden would actually get to do anything from the White House for at least two years. It was really unlikely that Democrats would win a narrow majority -- but then they did.
Breakthrough vaccines were announced. Rhetoric about the 'stolen election' ramped up until January 6th, when a semi-organized mob stormed the Capitol Building and threatened to kill members of Congress. Trump was impeached for a second time, and despite the fact that he obviously whipped this crowd into a frenzy that could have resulted in the death of even GOP members, not a single Republican moved to convict him. Biden was inaugurated, and for the first time it felt like we could actually move forward.
But there's the bill for climate change come due. In CA, we didn't really have a winter and no rain to speak of. The news is dominated by reports of wildfires here in the West, hurricanes devastating Atlantic islands and the East coast, and COVID taking far too many lives in between because people, incredibly, think their freedom to catch whatever they want is more important than helping all of us keep healthy and safe.
Our infrastructure is crumbling. We are in no way prepared for the extreme weather that will become the norm in just a few years. Republicans are infiltrating state and local governments to make it harder for democracy to work. Our economy is guttering because we won't do the necessary things to make sure it can reopen safely. The Left is eating its own tail with increasingly illogical call-outs and demands of purity so it feels like the movement is fracturing at the exact moment it should be galvanizing. Trump is waiting in the wings for 2024, where legislatures in battleground states have made it increasingly difficult to vote. This brief reprieve of even mild competence could be taken away; Democrats could lose the House and/or Senate in 2022, and the GOP could retake power of the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial Branches entirely in 2024. It's possible at that point, they'll rig the game so they never have to give it up.
And all the while, the world is getting hotter, the social fabric is unraveling more quickly, and all of us are stewing in our fear and anger. It really doesn't feel like anything will get better.
It's been impossible for me to be clear-eyed about all of this. I can't sit with the feeling of inevitable doom day in and day out. I see the latest injustices in the news, or the latest tempest in a teapot on Twitter, or the latest news of the apocalypse on the horizon, and instead of feeling angry or afraid I just feel...numb. And that numbness is actually worse than anything else.
So I smoke. And smoking makes me feel...well, like I'm actually having emotions. I feel more connected and more relaxed, but deep down I know that's a bit of a smokescreen. Marijuana is a warm fuzzy blanket I wrap myself in to hide from the world. Because seriously, have you seen what it's like out there? There's no hope for us. We had our chance and we blew it. All that's left is watching the chickens coming home to roost, one by one. More hurricanes. More wildfires. The creeping vines of fascism choking any chance of progressive democracy flourishing in this environment. Heat waves. More pandemics. The steady decline of social services until they collapse under the constant weight of ever-increasing catastrophes. More alienation. More anger. More fear.
I hide from the knowledge that the world is ending and there's nothing I can do about it. What's worse, I can't muster up the energy to care as much as I should. I'm exhausted. And that makes me feel guilty, because who isn't exhausted right now? I can't handle the anxiety of living in this world on my own two feet. Meditation isn't enough. CBT isn't enough. Nothing is enough. But what can I do about it?
Marijuana has felt like the best, least harmful way to keep moving forward, but...I don't think I want that kind of life either. I don't know what to do here. I guess that I'll take a break and try to deal with the feelings that come back to me. Even the numbness. Facing the emotions that I've found too difficult for the past two years is just something I have to do if I'm going to be the kind of person I want to be when the world ends. I have to work through the pain and anxiety and resentment somehow. I have to face what I'm feeling.
I'm hoping that diving back into writing will help with that. Seeding my protagonists with the difficult emotions or habits I'm working through can help me have that conversation with myself, work shit out, and maybe come to a healthier place with it all. None of this will change the fact that there's little hope for things to improve over the next, say, 20 years. But at the very least I can begin to make peace with it. Or create art that means something to me in the process.
