I write because we are in trouble. It is my way of seeking a center; a place of relative quiet to sort my thoughts and find strength to offer encouragement.
Trigger warnings lure you into believing you cannot manage the vagaries of life. They claim that every utterance you dislike, don’t believe or find offensive, is reason to amp up your resistance. That every injustice needs a protest. That every unfortunate victim (I use the term loosely here) deserves a unified act of outrage.
These warnings, encouragements to lose your stuff, and organize against the “oppressor” are lies. I don’t claim to know why they have become so popular, but I do know they simply are not true. You are not fragile. You do not need someone to come to your rescue. You do not have an army of oppressors trying to hold you down. Most people are so focused on their own stuff they don’t know or care about yours. That may sound cynical. I mean it to be liberating! They are not talking about you, they are projecting their issues or furthering their crusade.
Another reason I approach this work is because I believe we have lost our collective sense of humor. How sad! Is there another species on this – or any other planet – that can be so hilariously inconsistent? Is there any other form of life that can spew an energized, passionate, spittle-filled diatribe laced with profanity that says little other than that the orator (I again use the term loosely) is unhinged? As President Biden likes to say, “c’mon, man!”
We need relief. This level of angst, aggression, and anxiety is unhealthy and unsustainable. Hearts and minds break. Dreams and lives are destroyed. Statistics on depression, anxiety, drug abuse and suicide tell the story even if some want to deny it.
I don’t set out to make light of the genuine suffering so many feel today. I do set out to attempt as best I can to offer a different perspective, recognizing full well that it will be met with resistance. Mockery. Belittlement. Terms like “white supremacy” and “white privilege.” I’m okay with that because those terms do not define me, my life’s experience, my motivation, or my mission for this work. Rather, I seek to shine a light on our collective human experience that is vastly different one from another, yet remarkably similar in the darkest moments when we are convinced no one knows or cares about the crushing heartbreak that squeezes every last breath from our souls.
Some of us survive those moments; some of us do not. I lost a close friend who told me in a conversation shortly before she took her own life that she was not as strong as me. Her words chilled me, and we talked at some length about suicide. She was calm. Rational. I said I had long admired her focus, strength, and ability to bring new initiatives to life.
She was an inspiration to me in many ways. I said that while it was clear she was struggling, I believed she would recover if she could allow herself a time of rest. In retrospect, I understand she was determined to end her life.
Our conversation seemed to be a confirmation that no one truly understood her. In truth, her suffering was beyond my understanding. I have struggled with this for some time, feeling inadequate and somehow responsible for her ultimate decision. This is wrong. I was not the creator of her despair, nor was I responsible for saving her from it. People make decisions we may not ever understand. This is life. A tough aspect of life, but a very real one.
Flipping this coin over, we also have precious moments of hope, joy, connection, anticipation, gratitude, and aspiration that may be inexplicable as they occur but infuse us with energy that propels us. These micro-moments deserve to be captured and stored for future appreciation and emotional sustenance. These moments are not currently in vogue. They are mocked, dismissed, and generally treated as untrustworthy. Pollyanna-ish. Rose colored glasses-ish. Naïve. Surely we are smarter than to be fooled by such innocent and inane musings.
No. We are smart enough and mature enough to recognize them. To appreciate them however privately we must and store them somewhere to sustain ourselves as cynicism washes over most everything.
