When We Feel Too Much

So many of us are in overwhelm right now, yours truly included.

Friends, I am late with this week’s newsletter because frankly, my writing muscles have been nearly paralyzed with anger and grief and hopelessness.

When I sit down to write, I think, “How can I write drivel about death planning when people are actually dying in real time in front of the whole world?”

To be honest - as I try always to be with you, my dear readers - it stopped me from even beginning this. It’s a privilege right now to have the time and freedom to think about whether our will is up to date or what we want for our body disposition.

Then, I read something that my bestie from college, Jackie Kashian, said:

“Be smart, be brave, have fun. The bastards hate that.”

She’s right.

(Check her out on Zoom this week!)

It’s the juxtaposition of terror and sadness with my natural tendency to want to have fun that’s really messing with my head. I’m Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

How can I be happy and enjoy my life when so many others are struggling?

When the whole of the Twin Cities is coming out in Arctic conditions to protect and support their neighbors?

(NB: I grew up in Minnesota from age 11 to 18; I went back for Thanksgivings and Christmases until my parents moved away when I was 25. I got married there. I attended the church of Prince, and I drank Hamm’s beer. I feel like a Minnesotan. So these days, I feel a deep sense of pride and not a little awe in how my homies are showing up - even as I am halfway across the country.)

I’m trying to live by Jackie’s words, though: so Monday, after Philly was socked in by a (fabulous, in my opinion) snowstorm, we went sledding down the steps of the Art Museum.

It’s a Philly tradition; spontaneous and unpretentious and scrappy like the city itself. No actual sled needed; use cardboard boxes, plastic bin lids, or laundry baskets. (There was a pile to choose from. Take one, use it, and leave it for the next person.)

Not gonna lie, it was a blast. I haven’t gone sledding for years and forgot how exhilarating and hilarious it is; and also, how uncomfortable cold wet jeans can be.

Then, by the end of the day, I had read too much news and was right back in the slough of despond. Tuesday and Wednesday, the same damn roller coaster; thus, no writing got done. Happiness at passing my belay test at the rock-climbing gym, hopelessness at children being torn from their families. The Janus head, sppropriately enough, in January.

My new friends over at the Creative Grief Studio posted a beautiful and thoughtful piece about how to manage this “collective grief.” Tamara is much more eloquent than I can be right now, so you should read her.

Thank you, as always, for being with me on this journey. I hope you and I can find moments of joy and delight and fellowship, and not feel guilty about it, knowing that no one can take away our humanity.

I’ve been fairly inconsistent with my daily gratitudes, I’ll admit. But since these days it’s more important than ever to be thankful for what we do have, here’s what I’m grateful for at this minute: Girl Scout Cookies. You can support trans Girl Scouts (our trans friends are ever more in danger) AND satisfy your Thin Mint craving at the same time. Go on, you know you want some.

Order an extra box to keep in the freezer. Don’t let this happen!

Oh, and for one more place to get some happy, read and follow my friend Jade at A Bit of Good News - guaranteed to bring you at least a little joy. Happy National Freethinkers Day!

Hug your loved ones, and let’s promise we won’t give up, okay?