Staying Sane?
I picked up the call from an unknown number because I thought it might be our insurance company. It turned out to be an election volunteer, and since I've been on the other end of those calls, I spent a few minutes chatting. But despite their ask, I did not agree to go knocking on doors. I had other tasks on my calendar. The consternation in the volunteer's voice was clear, and I understand why.
These days I vacillate between taking action—calling representatives, protesting, and boycotting businesses that support this administration—and just trying to enjoy my work, my people, and my dogs. I tell myself that trying to maintain some semblance of life balance is how one stays sane, but maybe sanity is overrated?
When I see the rapid pace of climate change, or the brutality committed by ICE agents against immigrants, or perceived immigrants, I question everything.
We are still at war. Rising fuel prices are driving up the costs of everything, folks on both sides of the political aisle are worried about the midterms, and apparently Geoffrey Hinton, the "Godfather of AI," says there's a 10-20 percent chance that if we don't rein in AI, it will destroy humanity within a few decades. In my lifetime, I don't ever remember times such as these, or was I just not paying attention?
In a previous post I described the process of making public comments on decisions in front of federal agencies. When I talked about it as a form of resistance at a recent Breaking Bread meeting, one participant said that making public comments is a complete waste of time. Maybe they're right, but some advocates say it that if it's well-informed with interesting facts, it may have an effect. Others say that it establishes a record that might support future litigation. I don't know if my comments would live up to any of that.
Maybe this back and forth is some form of neurosis, but I don't think I'm the only one. In a recent Vox advice column, a reader posed the question: how do you know if you're wasting your life? They described feeling like they were settling for small deeds and life balance rather than taking on the big fight. The columnist, Sigal Samuel, said that the preoccupation with doing big things is a way that people try to secure their legacy—because we're afraid of dying. Still, maybe this urge has some societal benefit.
When I was younger, I believed in the quest. I believed that if I just worked hard enough, I could make significant positive change. Now I'm not so sure. I recall the effort and accomplishment that President Obama achieved with healthcare during his presidency and then watched most of it undone by the current administration. I cannot imagine what that feels like.
Maybe positive change comes from the places we least expect—the person you help because they happened to cross your path, or the off-hand comment that someone takes to heart.
I would love to hear about your strategies for navigating these turbulent times. Who do you think is doing a good job of it? Are you protecting your sanity?
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