Self-care amidst rapid social change

How a person with chronic illness or disability can survive today's political climate.

It’s been a dizzying couple of weeks in the United States. Whoever you are, however you voted, and whatever individual policies you support, the new regime is rapidly changing your daily life. Sure, the balance of power has been weakening for over a hundred years, the structural skeleton of our democratic republic straining as presidents on both sides of the aisle make bold, unchecked power grabs. Perhaps today, or perhaps tomorrow, the whole restraint system will finally crumble into dust. Perhaps it already did. We seem to be a one-man show at the moment, or at best an oligarchy.

There’s probably a little part of each of us that enjoys as well as fears the calamity. It’s that part of humanity that slows down to stare at a horrific car crash on the highway, wanting to know the details. What caused this? How much damage? Who survives? Maybe you tell yourself that you can’t stop listening to news podcasts about entire federal agencies being put “into the woodchipper” because slower attempts at reform didn’t better your life, and it’s about time; maybe you tell yourself that you can’t stop listening because you look forward to Trump’s base feeling the pain of his tariffs at the grocery store.

There are some purely bad actors in the mix. We could debate who they are: which individuals are narcissists, which individuals are sociopaths, etc. Severe mental illness is a real threat, especially when combined with unchecked power. Most Americans, though, voted for precisely what we’re all getting. Even if you feel like the current administration is unleashing wild animals into the streets to maim and devour the slowest and weakest among us (you know who you are, person who put this idea into my head), you must also face the fact that the majority of your countrypeople wanted this to happen.

Where to go from here, especially if you’re among the slower and weaker? Where to go from here if you’re the non-billionaire; the nearly half of U.S. citizens who have at least one chronic illness; the nearly one third of Americans who rely on government assistance; or even just some poor working sap hoping to get your tax return despite the fact that the IRS has a high percentage of permanently remote workers being goaded into quitting before they can process your check?

I was a DEI hire in civil service once. I had to meet the same qualifications any other candidate has to meet, but I also had Schedule A disability preference because of my seizure disorder. After about 100 applications, I got an interview. That job kept me from needing government handouts for two years while I adjusted to a difficult diagnosis and the global pandemic that wrecked my small business and saw me cash out my life savings to avoid bankruptcy. I received stellar performance reviews during my short time in civil service. I improved efficiency by helping agencies adjust to receiving online payments. I worked entirely from home and resigned when my position got transferred to D.C. because I’d already bought a house beyond commuting distance from headquarters. For the next two years, I proceeded to cost taxpayers a lot more money as a federal consultant, in roles that did allow me to work from home.

If you’re cheering while Trump fires everyone involved with ensuring fair treatment for those who are systemically oppressed, or while he blames hiring those with epilepsy and other disabilities for a plane crash (full recording here, jump to 9:04 to hear epilepsy named), I just ask that you picture my face while cheering. I am one of the people you’re hoping he’ll erase.

Tom (2017) by Daniel Martin - “The portraits disturb the viewer but they tend to be valuable in the sense that they give space to deformity and deficiency, and see some kind of worth in it. In the middle of a popular culture that always elevates physical clarity and symmetry and wholeness and completion, these paintings create a slot for the contemplation of that which is unfinished and in the process of finding itself.” (Source)

In the past week, I confront feelings of profound un-belonging, un-wantedness, and the strong sense that a majority of my fellow Americans want me to go f*** myself and just die already instead of needing help along the way. The rhetoric around those with disabilities starts to feel a bit Holocaust-y. Remember the so-called mercy killings of the T4 program? Those with scary diseases like epilepsy are used to being scapegoats; it’s almost boring to mention, it’s so common throughout history.

Luckily, I am buoyed by this thought: whatever we think we disagree about, and however different you think you are from me, we’re all in this together.

The policy shitstorm engulfing the Swamp affects all of us. If you aren’t feeling it yet—perhaps you live in the middle of the country, don’t frequent national parks, don’t have any gay friends, don’t collect Social Security, and don’t personally know any civil servants?—just wait. Somehow, some way, it will affect you, because we’re all connected. That’s why things like the Holocaust and Civil War don’t last forever.

My first love, before all this mental health advocacy stuff, was economics. That’s where I first learned that we’re all connected, because almost none of us can survive without trading for most of what we need. What’s more, none of us really have bigger priorities than our will to live and preference for a comfortable, or at least bearable, life. Those who were unhappy with their lot and voted for Trump may tout this or that Big Idea, but I suspect they were suffering and needed change they weren’t getting. And now a lot of us who weren’t suffering as much will suffer with them; that’s more important, perhaps, than whether or not Trump’s policies help anyone. Those who didn’t see Trump’s second win coming are feeling the truth that Trump’s supporters will soon feel through the myriad unintended consequences of his sweeping executive actions: we are all connected.

I take comfort in knowing that desire for the rule of law, desire for liberty, and hope for progress are nearly universal. I try to read news from both sides (and whatever I can find of the disappearing middle), and everyone says they believe the same things. We disagree about the how, but I still hold out hope that a majority of us seek fairness and the Good Life. Whether you cheer or sob about the current institutional collapse, I hope that in your heart, it is a belief in liberty that motivates your reaction. If we still share that, this divisiveness can’t last forever.

“I often wonder whether we do not rest our hopes too much upon constitutions, upon laws and upon courts. These are false hopes; believe me, these are false hopes. Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can even do much to help it.”

— Judge Learned Hand, “The Spirit of Liberty” speech, 1944

But what do we do with ourselves in the meantime, while the polarization rages?

After a rough week of self-sabotaging thoughts, apocalyptic fears, and feelings of abject helplessness, I sat down to write this list of coping and/or resistance strategies. I didn’t just have liberals or my fellow moderates in mind. Whether you know it yet or not, your life is about to change—due, at minimum, to the trickle-down effect of chaos in Washington and threats to the social order that keeps bloodshed and famine at bay. Wherever you fall on the issues, here are some ways to feel better in a time of upheaval and discord:

1. Stubbornly seek joy.

• When you lose sleep or eat poorly out of fear and angst, they’re winning—whoever “they” is according to your political and social beliefs. When you do what makes you feel good, you’re winning. And yes, eating an entire chocolate cake might feel good for about 5 minutes but then it might feel very bad. Use your judgment, and as my therapist would say, make sure the activities you choose for self-care are progressive, not regressive. Ask yourself: Is this the adult choice? Or the rebellious-teenager choice?

• Think of Benigni in Life is Beautiful shouting “principessa!” over the concentration camp loudspeaker to cheer his wife. It doesn’t matter how bad things get; you have a responsibility to bring humor and joy to those around you. Be like Benigni. Be playful, do silly things, and distract your loved ones from the wreckage. It’s not denial if you knowingly do so to help someone else pull through another day. It’s called mutual survival.

• Continue your hobbies, especially the social ones. When depressed or anxious, and when insulted/persecuted for conditions you can’t change, it’s easy to isolate. Threats often grow bigger when we give ourselves time to ruminate. So, don’t. Go about life with as much normalcy and commitment as you can, for as long as you can, even if you look like shit because you cried late last night and didn’t sleep well. Force those who have it in for you to physically drag you out of the life you value, and until then, Hold. The. Line.

• Listen to happy music. Honestly, if you just do one thing, do this. Spotify has great playlists tailored to your political sentiments. Or just build your own “Joy Playlist” with songs that improve your mood.

2. Take small, independent actions.

• I Meta-cleansed my life last night. I was sick of advertisers trying to sell me junk I don’t need, sick of contributing to Zuckerberg’s fortune and surge of “masculine energy,” sick of knowing everyone’s reactions to each news story, sick of fearing surveillance, sick of comparing myself and my situation to others. So, I executed my sovereignty. I stopped. I downloaded all my data from Facebook and Instagram then deleted my accounts. Meta doesn’t care. But I do.

• Serve. In a country obsessed with infighting and rivalry, I return to this core value that many of us share. Whether it looks like volunteering in a soup kitchen, cleaning out a river or stream, or redoubling the service ethic you bring to your day job, service inevitably works against the vitriol and reminds us of our shared humanity. Service breeds equality in our hearts, and that has the power to override a great deal of political discord.

• Treat yourself with loving kindness. Especially if you are in a group currently being scapegoated or vilified, take extra good care of yourself. If you can’t seem to calm your thoughts or steer your emotions, be understanding. You’re under threat—that’s your nervous system doing its job! See if there’s a way to “fight or flight” the attack and then complete the stress cycle by taking care of yourself physically. Treat yourself like you would your beloved child or spouse if they were struggling. Make a nutritious soup from scratch, engage in a fun sport, watch relaxing movies and shows, meditate, do yoga, etc. Focus less on what’s attacking you and more on building resilience against the attack itself.

• Keep crossing bridges. Play pickleball with your political enemy. Wave hello to the neighbor who cheers the ruin of your spouse’s career. Be kind to the LGBTQ+ person you see as a threat to your own family’s values. We don’t have to agree about policy to be kind to the humans with whom we share direct contact in life. Yes, when someone makes threats to your life or liberty, fight back hard. And also, whenever and however you can, cross bridges. Make it harder for the Other to dehumanize you by humanizing them.

3. Speak. As of today, we still call ourselves a democracy. Take breaks for your safety and sanity, but don’t exit the conversation. Your voice matters.