It's Okay to Not Be Okay

I was planning to write another blog today. One about how important it is to retain innocence and a sense of wonder as an adult, even though the older we get, the harder it is, and the more strength and willpower it takes. I still want to write that blog, but I can’t at the moment. Because I don’t feel any of it right now.

There was an incident this past Monday, at my local BMV. I woke up early to get tags for my car, and the line of people stretched down the side of the building, what with everyone social distancing. Most people wore masks, and more than one of them had political opinions emblazoned on them. I was already feeling a bit jittery to be there, and then, of course, a loud-mouth middle aged guy with no mask on loudly shouted “Are you the end of the line?” to me. I nodded and said “I guess you are now!” in a vaguely friendly manner and he got in line behind me, thankfully social distancing. As the BMV opened and the line started moving, an elderly man wearing his mask as a chin strap started chatting with the other guy, and as we reached the door, I heard the loud guy say “some trucks are being told to just keep driving slowly. Those protesters deserve to be run over anyway. That’s what they get for being in the streets.”

I’ve heard terrible conversations like that before. It wasn’t anything new. But it hit me like a ton of bricks. This experience was less like a last straw, and more like a final jolt of shock that now has my nerves jangled and on edge from every little thing I see. It’s like my nerves were tender and raw before and they now are frayed and giving off random sparks at unpredictable moments. I have no idea what will set off the pain next. Cigarette butts by the side of the road at a stoplight. A political sign in my neighbor’s yard I have to look at every day, so that home isn’t even entirely a sanctuary. Subway employees making my sandwich who won’t pull their masks up over their noses even when asked. The fanged bare-toothed snarl of a coyote by the road, laying in final repose, made me start to cry and I still can’t get his image out of my mind. The universe has gone mad. The world is broken, and I don’t know how to stop hurting.

I’m very good, very experienced, at acting like everything is fine, at being able to shove back how I feel and ignore it when I have to, like when I’m at work and have to be professional and not curl up into a fetal position and hide under a blanket. But then sometimes I find that I get so used to acting, that I fake it even when I don’t have to, like when I’m talking to my therapist and it’s actively important to work on my true emotions. Because of this, friends don’t always know when I’m struggling. Because of having to hold it all in, and also because of being so overwhelmed by it all, my fears and emotions come alive at night and overwhelm me. I haven’t slept well since April.

I feel nervous admitting any of this on my blog, since I’ve had a few people tell me my words and images are their retreat, their bright light in a dark time. What I share here is me, authentically. It’s true. It is my deepest passion and belief; this need for beauty, wonder, magic, Faerie. The things I say here, and the things I show that I do here are true and real. But I am also (mostly) human, and I am currently too full of despair to pretend I’m not.

So what I can do?

-I can take action. I am a timid girl with a rabbit heart, but there are things that even I can do. Please understand, I am aware that my having this ability to say “I don’t have enough spoons” or “it takes too much out of me” is demonstrating my privilege. I am not a Black man being shot for just jogging outside his home. I am not a Black woman being shot in her own home. I am a cis, white female. And as such, I “pass” as one of them, one of the hateful people who surround me at the grocery store, who spew such words in line at the BMV. They assume that I’m one of them and speak freely. And circumstances don’t always allow me to respond, and it fills me with anger and despair. I wonder what I can do. Well, I just found out about one idea at least. My friends Brittany and Sara recently let me know about Postcards to Voters, a campaign to send hand-written postcards to people, reminding them of the importance of voting in a one-on-one and person-to-person way. I plan to order some of the adorable postcards and spend my evenings writing them to people.

-I can give myself permission to feel this way fully, and not pretend I’m okay. I am spent. I am exhausted, and I feel overcome with despair. As an empathetic and very sensitive person, even the smallest things break my heart. I feel bad throwing out unused groceries because they “never got the chance to fill their purpose” for crying out loud. This world really is too much for me right now. Especially in combination with other things I’m feeling, like defeat and ineptitude, invisibility, hopelessness regarding my writing career. It’s okay to not be okay. And right now I’m not okay. A lot of us aren’t.

-I can indulge in my (healthy) comforts. I’ve abused the idea of “indulging myself” for the last couple of months, eating way too much terrible food and telling myself that life is awful and I need comfort. And now I feel terrible and sluggish and have gained about 15 pounds in about two and a half months. I can, however, indulge in healthy comforts. I’m also talking about things like…listening to calming music (the Skyrim soundtrack and Skyrim atmospheric music videos on YouTube got me through the first month and a half of quarantine, and I’m leaning heavily on them again now) Then there’s comforting tv (I find myself wanting to watch Song of the Sea, with its repeated lullaby, and we just finished watching Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories which I thought was lovely and calming to watch right before bed)

-I can get out in nature. This remains one of my greatest and most steadfast comforts. When I feel my most hopeless, I run to the woods and sit on a fallen log for as long as it takes, watching the living, breathing world around me, this complicated, interconnected world of the forest. If I have to live in a world where I am so out of step with the humans around me, in this Midwest Bible belt, I can at least run away and find this peace in nature, and a reminder that not all is lost.

I know this isn’t like most of the posts I do here, but I have to be honest with you all, I figured you deserved to know why I’ve been a little quiet this week, and I also thought that if I am feeling this way, I suspect many of you are as well.

“I marveled at the beauty of all life and savored the power and possibilities of my imagination. In these rare moments, I prayed, I danced, and I analyzed. I saw that life was good and bad, beautiful and ugly. I understood that I had to dwell on the good and beautiful in order to keep my imagination, sensitivity, and gratitude intact. I knew it would not be easy to maintain this perspective. I knew I would often twist and turn, bend and crack a little, but I also knew that…I would never completely break.” ― Maria Nhambu