Today, I’m trying to re-discover my usefulness. Or maybe it’s my attention. And maybe the word I’m looking for is recover, not re-discover. Yesterday, I was useless and inattentive. I get this way when there is drama, when the world seems topsy-turvy – is topsy-turvy. I was useless on 9-11. I was useless after a few big breakups. I was useless on January 6. I was useless for most of the early days of the pandemic. My attention is easily hijacked by major world events or local/personal catastrophes. Under such circumstances, I don’t understand how people just go about their day. I also don’t understand people who “don’t do politics.”
Yesterday, while on a walk and contemplating this feeling of malaise and total lack of motivation, I began to consider the possibility that the Tr*mp administration is bad for my psyche. Too much chaos. Always chaos. I don’t think I function well in chaos – at least not this type. The last time I felt similarly unmotivated was during the first Tr*mp administration. Back then, I chalked it up to personal turmoil and relationship woes (divorce, a few breakups, and moving). Now, I think it’s more of a compounding effect. The political climate exacerbates even the smallest problem in any other part of life. It effectively reduces my ability to cope. The chaos makes me feel more isolated: morally, politically, romantically, socially, financially. I begin to think I’m unprepared for all of this. I begin to think that if the world is gong to end – or at least undergo significant upheavals that coincide with significant increases in suffering – I bummed that I don’t have my escape route planned. I feel unprepared to weather whatever storms may be unleashed (this might be a holdover from the collective trauma of the pandemic in which none of us were prepared). I don’t have my cabin in the woods by the stream where I can just unplug, paint, write, read, or loaf about. I don’t have that group of friends who will join me in starting a commune. I begin to think, “man the world is going to shit and I don’t even have someone to commiserate with over dinner or breakfast or drinks.” When the world becomes too much, I want out. I get a serious case of the “why bothers.”
Yesterday, with the president threatening to destroy a civilization, I felt the heavy shrug of “why bother.” Yesterday, I felt the anxiety – like I was on high alert looking for figurative changes in the environment: smoke on the horizon, a serious wind, the cracking of a branch. I spent way too much time refreshing news sites to see how everything would play out. By the end of the day, I was tired. While I know that I’m in control over how I react (I should/could just tune out), it’s hard to ignore all that’s going on.
Today, I’m still tired. I’m tired of one man causing so much chaos and making life miserable for so many people. We had it relatively easy. I can’t imagine how the people of Iran felt – forming human chains around their critical infrastructure unsure of when the bombs might drop. It’s wrong to terrorize an entire nation – several nations, the world. It becomes personal – this exhaustion. I grow tired of trying to break even or get slightly ahead while “the ruling class” hoards wealth and housing and natural resources while getting away with self-dealing, market manipulation, corruption, sexual assault (the Epstein class), and war crimes. And when I’m tired of everything, few things motivate me, few things inspire me… and the ones that do feel overwhelming.
As I scrolled and surfed and read these past two days, I found I had little patience or use for poetry. Despite knowing there might be wisdom there, I didn’t want to read it, much less write it. Pictures of cute cats doing cute things (something that peppers my Bluesky feed and usually brings small pops of joy) only made me miss the cats I used to have. Pictures of beautiful, far away places only made me feel financially stuck with no breathing room for travel. When I’m tired and burdened by the “why bothers,” I become cynical and jealous. I focus on what I don’t have as opposed to what I do (health, community, surrounded by beauty). I don’t like feeling cynical and jealous.
I know one remedy to the “why bothers” is to do something – anything: perform an act of kindness, put effort into something, take a walk, exercise, take care of minor chores. I’ve done some of that (run, laundry, groceries, walk). I also know feelings of uselessness and/or helplessness are temporary. What isn’t temporary (or at least doesn’t seem so) is this administration. I’m going to need to do a better job of finding distractions and/or coping every time he does something crazy or chaotic because being incapacitated for the next few years isn’t an option, and I can’t spend all of my time sitting on benches by the water.
Post Script
Often, writing (and reading) are my ways of working through things. Going to the bar and hanging out with friends is one of my ways of avoiding doomscrolling – and man did I want to hang out at the bar last night. After writing this post earlier in the day, I went about some of my normal business mixed with doomscrolling. I’m well-aware that this threat isn’t behind us. As I ate dinner, I scrolled and read. I was fortunate to stumble on the newsletter Organizing My Thoughts by writer and organizer Kelly Hayes. Specifically, I came across her article “This Is No Way to Live.” The title summed up some of my feelings under the Tr*mp administration. More importantly, Hayes makes it clear that what we’re experiencing is not normal, and it’s ok to not feel normal about it. The killer lines, the ones that might convince me to leave my keyboard and screen for a solid hang and a beer are, “Survival is a collective process. We weren’t meant to do it alone, just as we weren’t meant to solve problems larger than ourselves alone. We are social beings who need each other to survive.” A few years ago, I remember reading a doom and gloom headline about climate change after which I wrote a poem that contrasts everyday chores like picking up paper towels and Tom Collins mix for a dinner party with the desire to ensure one doesn’t have to live out the apocalypse alone. It was my attempt at conveying that “if things are going to be shit, I’m glad you’re by my side” sentiment. Hayes’ article validated those feelings.