Last night my fear got the best of me. It was the way TikTok handled their whole shift into propaganda land that undid me. If you didn’t see it, they had a great big announcement on their front page giving all credit to “President” tr*mp” (who as of this writing is still a few hours away from no longer being a private citizen) and sure enough there was a bunch of, “I hope Gen Z remembers dear leader’s efforts!” and all that noise and it just got to me.
I use TikTok for work (for my child anxiety stuff) and I do occasionally scroll for entertainment and sometimes I look at TikToks my clients send me to explain something they’re experiencing. (My feelings about TikTok diagnosis is complicated — I like when clients are assured that it’s fine that they’re brain does a brain thing but I’m less thrilled when clients begin to cling to a diagnosis that isn’t accurate although I figure that’s a me problem because having a wrong diagnosis only hurts people who then get treated for said wrong diagnosis and likely only helps folks who find some freedom in it. BUT I DIGRESS.)
I had this vision of zillions of grateful people saying, “Hey! Maybe this tr*mp fellow isn’t so bad! Maybe he’s even right about the border and trans people and it’s GOOD to have state owned media run by a habitual liar!” and I got scared.
So that was last night.
This morning, as I look out at the peachy gold-pink clouds and the blue sky peeking out behind snow covered trees I feel calmer. I’m still scared, mind you, because there’s a lot to be scared about but I know I just have to cope (like the rest of us).
Plus there is this whole thing of being a therapist. The other day one of my clients said, “My friends want to know what Dawn says about it” because I am a Voice of Authority (like all therapists), rightly or wrongly. What that means is I can certainly have my own nervous breakdowns but kinda like how a parent needs to step up, therapists have to step up for their clients.
There have certainly been times since 2016 when I’ve wanted to cry in terror with my clients. There have certainly been times when I’ve been more worried for them than they’ve been worried for themselves. There have certainly been times when I have felt just as bereft and hopeless and angry and sad but it is literally my job not to succumb to my emotions and instead somehow hold space for their emotions and do my best to stay regulated in the face of their understandable dysregulation.
And here we go again.
Fortunately instead of being crammed into the too small bedroom of a too small apartment during a global pandemic when there were literal riots in the streets and my daughter was sobbing in the other room I’m in a lovely spacious office looking out at trees.
I’ve also given up in the way that actually allows me to function. You know, in that Buddhist way of not railing against facts (the whole “HOW CAN THIS BE????” phase where I’m so shocked that every new terrible revelation was like having ice water dumped on my head over and over again) and just recognizing that this is where we are. THIS is WHERE we ARE.
This of course was the devastating feeling after the election, right? But once I let myself understand that the election changed NOTHING; it just uncovered what was already true then I knew that I couldn’t keep running from it. Like I couldn’t keep trying to make it NOT so. It IS so. Which is scary, of course, but there’s no way out but through.
I don’t let myself dwell on worst case scenarios, as tempting as they are. I’ve read more than my share of apocalyptic fiction, having been a fan since my punk goth teens, so yes I see the rhythm and rhyme of it. I see the echoes across our history. But that’s also where I find some hope.
Because we HAVE been here. Our ancestors have lived through the same and worse. I’m watching Shogun right now; those were not delightful times. Courtesy of Becca I was reading Ninth Street Women (and realizing I will not finish before the library grabs it back) and Nazis have already marched through NYC.
So I realized what I want to read is the stories of people who got through it. I want to start charting my pathway by leaning on the narratives of survivors.
I very recently learned of Sean Strub’s ties to this area (he was mayor of Milford, the town where I do my grocery shopping) and I just ordered his book about the AIDS crisis.
(As an aside, I listen to Underground 80s while I cook dinner since during tr*mp times I give up on listening to NPR. And the other day they were playing Two Tribes and I feel comforted by listening to our Gen X political dance music as a reminder of the very roots of my righteous anger. Do you remember Dear God? I can’t imagine anyone doing a cover getting it played anywhere mainstream these days.)
As we spiral forward (because I cling to the belief that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”) we are leaning into dark days but we will curve out of them again. I believe that. I am scared but I am hopeful.
On this Martin Luther King, Jr. day, on this difficult day sullied by an ugly inauguration, I align my thoughts with MLK rather than the other because it’s the only way I will make it through. Because I’ve got clients who need me. I’ve got (grown) kids who need me. And I need myself.
So it goes. So it goes.
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