How To Survive a Riptide
…and live to see another election
Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash
It may seem counter intuitive, but you shouldn’t fight against a rip tide because you won’t win. If you get caught in one, the best thing you can do is stay calm. It’s not going to pull you under; it’s just going to pull you away from shore. Swim at an angle along the shoreline until you escape the pull. If you tire or feel you can’t swim any longer, float until you can … or until the current changes. You will get back to shore if you don’t panic.
I haven’t been able to write since the election. I’ve had words, thoughts, many of them, but they weren’t organized, pleasant, or particularly cogent, so I decided to float for a while. At times I felt like I was drowning, couldn’t breathe or tamp down the roiling anxiety and explosive rage crashing over me, so, again, I floated. I’m still basically floating.
It’s now been ten days since my view of America was blown to bits by fellow citizens who consider traits I value deeply — honor, integrity, decency, honesty, inclusion, compassion — as not only expendable, but useless, undesirable even. And those people elected someone of such low character, such moral depravity, gross ineptitude, and staggering ignorance, that I, like millions of others, felt swept up by a rip current I could not control and felt would surely drown me. It didn’t, it won’t, but I’m depleted and battered in the effort to survive it … to continue to survive it. To survive it for the next four years.
Schadenfreude in the MAGA camp is loud and ugly. Reams have been written as postmortems, analyses of “what happened?”, “what went wrong?” Most I find reductive and idiotic, some offensive. There are those who attack Harris and Walz for their “joy and optimism campaign” (damn them for being so joyful and optimistic!), others snipe about minor mistakes and missed opportunities as if they hadn’t had only three months to pull together a major presidential campaign against a man who’d been hawking his wares like a carnival barker for years. Some carp about “the Democrats” at large, myriad (mostly male) celebrities scold Harris/Walz for being too soft; Pelosi again stabbed Biden in the back, and Bernie Sanders, after enthusiastically supporting Harris, went on one of his typical anti-Dem rants, enough to make my friend Shannon Argueta, a former Bernie stan, write, “Shut the Fuck Up, Bernie.” Her vent echoes my own.
Spin was/is coming in from all over the place, both sides of the aisle, regurgitated through both left and right wing media, and, frankly, it’s redundant, selective, and not enough of it targets the most salient elements responsible for this big, fat, civic clusterfuck:
1. Racism and sexism writ large. “I just don’t think we’re ready for a female president,” one woman burbled, followed by, “And, come on, a Black one?” There’s no denying it, none. Hard as anyone tries to deflect to other distracting, weak-ass reasons for the Republican assault, the core issue, couched in grievances about immigration, the economy, “woke” culture (damn that compassion and sensitivity!), and Kamala’s laugh, is racism and sexism. It’s not that there aren’t legitimate voter concerns, but when the choice is between a brilliant, ethical, highly accomplished, profoundly effective Black/Asian woman, and a mumbling, bumbling, mentally dim, staggeringly vulgar, repugnantly indecent convicted felon/adjudicated rapist who happens to be a rich, white man — and that man wins … it’s (ding, ding, ding!) the racism and sexism.
It’s also…
2. The relentless, interminable, unregulated, and widely disseminated right-wing media’s propaganda, lies, disinformation, and obfuscation of true facts that pummeled listeners and viewers 24/7, without respite, without context, without debate, and without truth. That Goebbels-like tactic worked like gangbusters on MAGA, MAGA-adjacent, and low-information others. One of my favorite political writers, Michael Tomasky, takes that matter on in bold relief: “Why Does No One Understand the Real Reason Trump Won?”
“Why didn’t a majority of voters see these things (the accomplishments of the Biden/Harris, the vileness of Trump)? And understanding the answer to that question is how we start to dig out of this tragic mess. The answer is the right-wing media.”
Read the article when you’re done here. It hits the nail.
But let’s get back to the theme of this piece: How do we survive the riptide that’s brutally yanked us from solid ground? How do those of us who believe in principles like basic decency, vibrant democracy, and quality of character survive this roiling, dirty, assaultive current that will soon sweep through our government, our country, our very lives when the “tide of incoming Trumpism” slams chaotically into our White House?
There are some already pushing very peppy, “Let’s get back up and get back in!” campaigns. That’s good. That’s fine. Certainly admirable. Some may actually be ready to, once again, fully engage with the political machine. I’m not. I know of others who are not. Not yet, anyway. We likely will be at some point (once an activist, always an activist). But not now. Not while there’s little we can actually do to impact much of anything, including the outcome of some of the most heinous cabinet picks in history. But I will put a pin in that enthusiasm, I promise.
Others are sending out inspirational memes encouraging us to “stay in the game,” or “stay positive.” I get several of those a day on my socials. Thank you. I think. At least I appreciate the positivity, even if it doesn’t move the grief needle much.
Then there’s the contingent that’s vocally and visibly despairing, with one post after another warning that, “As bad as you think it might be, it’s going to be so much worse!” which is not terribly helpful.
Some essays gently admonish us not to give up hope, to be gentle with ourselves and kind to others. Those tend to strike a chord for me.
Which leads to my own list for “How To Survive a Riptide.” These are in no particular order of importance. They’re not new information of shattering innovation. But they’re all important as far as I’m concerned and deserve to be called out. Because, combined, they’re keeping me from slipping into the depths and letting myself drown.
1. Turn off the news, get off political media; stop reading the paper … at least the political noise (movie reviews are fine). This is a big one and I can already hear some of my media-addicted friends wailing, “But it’s important to stay informed, especially now!!” No, it’s not. Or, maybe better put, you’re informed enough. Unless you work in government, are involved with the justice system, run a still-operating activist campaign, or have a podcast requiring you be up on breaking political news, you’re informed enough … for now. Float for a minute, detach from the tumult attempting to tear us from our moorings. Regroup. There’s no doubt the Sturm und Drang will continue for years to come, so you can dive back in any time. Any time later.
I speak from experience: I haven’t watched a second of news since November 5th. Seriously. Haven’t read beyond the headlines of any political articles (except the two I’ve shared in this piece). My scrolls through social media keep me informed enough of the bullet points, and my dedicated detachment from the drip-drip-drip of reporting, opinionating, gloating, and garment-rending has helped modulate my anxiety, tamp my rage, mitigate my grief, and save my sanity. I’ll get back to it all at some point. Maybe 2028.
Which leads to what I am doing with my newly-released time, and that’s #2.
2. Get creative, artistically and imaginatively creative. I’m serious about this. Dive in, really dive in. Go back to that art project you set aside to attend postcard parties for Kamala. Start writing again (and I don’t mean political screeds). Pick up the novel you outlined and got distracted from. Shoot an album of fall photographs, post them on your socials or frame them for your walls. Redesign your living room. Paint the house that color you always wanted. Landscape your yard. Really lean into your creativity in a way that reminds you of how uplifting and energizing using those muscles can be. With the holidays coming up, there are all the more reasons to “craft” your way out of despair; how handy is that?!
I speak from experience here, too. I’ve dived back into my creative writing projects with verve. Immersed in tasks required for prepping my new novel (out on Sibylline Press at the end of March, 2025), and putting the elements together for a long-neglected compilation book I’ll be self-pubbing, I’m fully engaged. It feels good. My mind is on beauty, creation; art, instead of teeth-grinding politics. It’s a mental and emotional vacation. Whatever your creative inclinations may be, get to them. Now’s the time.
Autumn in Central Park, LDW
3. GET OUTSIDE. I can’t stress this one loudly enough (notice I all-capped it). It may seem eye-rollingly cliched (“we know, we know!”), but it’s advice that bears repeating. And I don’t just mean stand on your porch and take a deep breath of fresh air (although that’s fine, too). I mean, put on some hiking boots and get in a few good miles surrounded by trees and birds, doesn’t matter if it’s Central Park or Mount Whitney. Get down to the ocean and do a sand walk as far and fast as you can. Ride a bike. Explore a forest. Find a good walking stick and climb that trail not far from your neighborhood. Seriously, getting outside (with your phone on silent or, better yet, turned off), partaking of nature long enough to shut down the whirring tape in your head, can quite literally purge your heart and soul, clear your mind, get your blood moving, and your body feeling better, stronger. Do this every day if you can, several times a week if not. Do it as often as possible. It’s an elixir like no other.
4. Refocus on your health. I’m hearing lots of stories about people not being able to sleep or eat; their hearts pounding like runaway trains, their breath short, their heads aching, with too much alcohol and too little healthy food. Despair, disappointment, rage, and fear can all have deleterious effects on body and mind, as we know, so don’t brush this one aside. Beyond incorporating #3 into your schedule, get serious about calming your emotional inflammation with healthy, unprocessed food; eat less crap; stop drinking or cut back, stay hydrated and, if it’s your thing, meditate. I don’t need to itemize the prescription any further than that — I’m convinced you know what’s good for you — so do it. You can always get back to Cheetos, Ruffles, and tequila in 2028 (😉).
5. Go help someone else. I know that’s always a part of a “how to feel better” prescription, but that’s because it’s true. Helping others — whether in an official volunteer capacity, or simply by taking an ailing friend to the doctor or pulling garbage bins to the curb for a disabled neighbor — helps mood and morale, engenders a greater sense of connection and belonging; it can tangibly impact someone’s or something’s forward motion, and, as a bonus, it triggers endorphins, signaling your body that it’s not, in fact, drowning or being irrevocably swept away by evil forces. That’s win-win by every metric.
6. Take time for fun and diversion. Sounds silly but I’m damn serious. Get into activities with friends and family. Catch up on Atlanta, rewatch Schitt’s Creek or West Wing (wait, don’t watch West Wing; it’ll make you sad by comparison…), discover a great British film on Netflix. Plan a spa weekend with close pals. Throw a block party. Go dancing. It’s not fluffy stuff; it’s a mental healthcare priority. Do it.
And that’s it, six steps to save yourself from the riptide. I promise, if you truly and sincerely implement each of these you’ll feel better, you’ll get better, and once you find yourself on solid ground again, you can shake off the panic, take a deep breath, and make your way back to peace, activism, political engagement, cable news, or whatever makes your relationship with civics a meaningful endeavor. At that point, all the pep talks from the “get back up, get back in!” folks will likely land a whole lot better, and you’ll be ready to do just that.
Namaste.
