How To Survive a Coup: Reclaim Your Joy
It’s tough, but it must be done.
After a night of too little sleep punctuated by roiling dread about the current Trumpmuskian coup whipping life into a frenzy, I stumbled from bed, went to the computer with my chai, and immediately bumped into this social media post:
“Hi. I know everything is awful and terrible right now so please excuse me while I shout from the rooftops. I APPLIED TO TWO PHD PROGRAMS AND GOT ACCEPTED TO BOTH!!!”
I didn’t know the woman, but her joy was palpable. As was her reticence to share about it in our current climate of rage and despair when expressing joy can often be dismissed as trivial. It’s not, of course, it’s anything but, so I had to respond:
“Congratulations! That’s huge. We still gotta celebrate the good stuff or we’re going to go insane. I don’t know you, but damn … well done!”
I didn’t check later, but I hope she got lots of similar kudos.
Later, chatting with a friend about the potential of an event featuring her art, I was struck when she ultimately sighed with the comment, “Well, this probably isn’t the time to do it anyway. Who’s interested in art when all anybody can talk about is how Trump is blowing up the country?”
I understood her plaint; I’ve run into similar strains of obsessive focus from various folks who, with every conversation, can’t help but dive into discourse on the latest chicanery from the cabal. And I get it, I get the impulse. We have to vent, to purge, work it out of our systems, especially because it’s a daily dose of madness. But the relentless discourse does create doubt that anyone has the bandwidth for joy these days.
Which has led to my own hesitation about such things. I was planning to essay-up some anecdotes about my upcoming book today, excited about its evolution, the story behind it, why I think readers will enjoy it, when, after a barrage of texts, articles, and posts bombarded me with various iterations of panic and disconsolation, I was leveled by a wave of, “Ugh, nobody wants to hear chipper babblings about this damn book.”
Then I saw a post from another person I didn’t know that grabbed my attention:
“What is the one thing you can do to reclaim some iota of joy or happiness?”
The responses were many. Here are just a few:
• “Snuggling with my baby. She’s so cute and I love getting to know her.”
• “I’m planning my spring garden.”
• “I’ve recently joined a queer and inclusive choir and we have rehearsal today. Singing helps me a lot.”
• “I put the finishing touches on a cross stitch bracelet I made for my partner. The design is from a Ukrainian shirt handmade by his great aunt. 💕”
• “I decorated our upcycled library trees for Black History Month. I made faux books ornaments w/titles by Toni Morrison, Zora Neale Hurston, and James Baldwin.”
• “Planning for more live music for the year.”
• “Today I’m going to get some reading for enjoyment done, cuddle my cat, and watch some trash TV with my daughter.”
• “WRITE!”
Respondents seemed eager to talk about what did, indeed, provide some joy and positive perspective in their lives. Some of it was creative; some familial. Some individual, some communal. I found it all refreshing, and it hit me:
That’s the prescription for surviving this coup: We each need to list, reclaim, then live our joy for the sake of our very sanity and endurance.
Because no one knows how long this era will last, what damage — temporary or permanent — it may wreak; how we’ll survive the onslaught as it unfolds, daily, hourly, with increasing cruelty, fear, and ugliness. But what we do know is that we can “reclaim some iota of joy or happiness.” We do get that option.
And it’s an essential one, because it’s true that the first three weeks of Emperor Trump have created overwhelming chaos for anyone with a soul, conscience, and desire not to start a war with the Middle East, China, Panama, Mexico, Canada, or Gavin Newsom. Among the resistance, there’s a sense that we’re going to the mattresses, buckling down hard, putting aside everything else to walk, march, fight in solidarity with those on the front lines. There are, clearly, many good (meaning, really bad) reasons to do all that, and to whatever extent any of us can, we must. But still…
Just as it has in every historical moment of madness, whether wars, natural disasters; economic downturns, etc., life allows — no, demands — we also create balance. Because lack of balance in dark times is detrimental to our very survival. Living in rage and despair foments stress, grief, and anxiety, all of which can lead to ill health, depression; an inability to move, act, fully live our lives, take care of our families, do our jobs, SLEEP. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve spoken to lately who are struggling with sleep, either unable to, or going to bed at increasingly early hours because they just … well, they just can’t.
I’ve talked about it before, so I won’t carry on about limiting political consumption, cable news, social media debates, and conversations focused heavily on the turmoil. I, myself, have had to work hard at that because I’ve got lots of people in my circle very focused on such things. Which is why the above prescription is all the more important. And how we survive this coup.
So let’s do it. Make your list. Reclaim your joy. Live what you reclaim. I’ve got my list going but I’m going to add, “Stop balking at sharing your creativity. Joy is contagious, including yours. Pass it on.” And next week I’m going to do just that, no matter what twists and turns the coup takes. We’re all going to have to learn how to live on two tracks for a while: dealing with the madness and reclaiming our joy. And we can do that. I can do that.
I’ll see you next week… I’ve got a cool story to tell you about.
