As we find ourselves fully engulfed in the Category 5 shit storm that is a second Trump term, two things are irrefutably clear: it’s much worse than we thought it would be, and it’s gonna get much worse before it gets better.
At this point, even the most pessimistic post-2024 election predictions have woefully underestimated the scope and velocity of the carnage to our systems of protection, our long-established structural institutions, and the elemental freedoms we’ve counted as givens.
The emotional whiplash of a relentless stream of diabolical Executive Orders, unrestrained sociopathy, stratospheric economic malpractice, and pathological attacks on vulnerable people is enough to level even the most measured and otherwise imperturbable among us.
In other words, our nervous systems weren’t built for this very special kind of homegrown hell.
What that means, in rubber-meets-the-road practicality, is that all the normal tried-and-true avenues of self-care may likely prove insufficient.
Even if you are somehow able in this disorienting, perpetual state of national emergencies and existential crises to actually keep a strict regimen of sleep, good nutrition, hydration, exercise, meditation, prayer, time in nature, relational connection, artistic pursuits, therapy, and limited media exposure—you might still feel like you’re about a millisecond from completely losing it in any given moment. (I know that I am.)
Now, you definitely don’t want to abandon the above practices, as they’ll surely help tether you to health and sanity, but I want to suggest that you might want to philosophically make other alterations in light of the gravity of these days; some new daily commitments you can make to yourself to navigate the nightmare. Consider these:
Burn bridges to toxic people. It’s a noble thing to want to reach across lines of tribalism and to try and stay connected with those whose opinions differ from ours, but there’s a limit to what is healthy, or called for, or even hunamly possible. Recently, our friends, family members, neighbors, and co-workers have revealed with great clarity who they are, what is stored up in their hearts. At this point, it’s perfectly fine to determine that some people, even people we know well and love, are morally incompatible with us.
Have the damn dessert. Yeah, we all know that as a rule, emotional eating is a bad idea and that intentionally overindulging won’t be good long-term, but given the number of historic implosions happening right now and the uncertainty of so many things, it’s a good idea to treat yourself to some comfort food or a libation or some small sensory pleasure, to remind yourself of the beauty found in simplicity. (Now, what wine pairs well with the fall of a Republic?)
Stop procrastinating away happiness. If you’ve been postponing a dream trip, holding off on writing your novel, or putting off a new project, cut that crap out, now. It isn’t trivial to attend to such things when disaster hits, but essential. One of the greatest forms of resistance is to live fully, joyfully, and creatively. Yes, it may all be hitting the fan right now, but you can put on a poncho and press on. Don’t wait for permission to really live, because fascists will not provide it.
Ask anything and say everything. One of the blessings of destabilizing, consequential moments like the ones that we’re in is that they help us clarify who we are and precisely what is worth living for; the causes and people that matter to us. Over the last two years you’ve likely learned a great deal about yourself, or you’ve been reminded of stuff that you forgot. And if things are all going sideways anyway, it’s a great time to be exactly who you are without apology or editing.
Stop giving a damn what people think. Repeat after me: someone else’s opinion of me is none of my business. Unbelievably, there are still people who are so addled by some toxic cocktail of denial, wishful thinking, ignorance, and American exceptionalism that they insist on tone policing those of us who are sounding the alarm and announcing the sky’s plummeting toward us. Those people do not deserve your time or emotional bandwidth. Refuse to be burdened by their expectations or bound by their sensibilities; you have a nation to save.
Please understand that I’m not minimizing what we’re going through collectively and what you’re enduring individually or what’s ahead for all of us. These are sobering, harrowing, dangerous times, and we will be pressed up against threats and worries many of us have never faced before. That’s all the more reason to live the hell out of single every day.
So yes, friends, please take good care of your physical, spiritual, mental, emotional, and relational health by adopting practices and patterns that can provide a buffer between you and the terrifying hellscapes on your timeline, outside your window, and in your head.
But beyond that, in what feels like (and may indeed be) the worst-case scenario, make it a priority to radically care for yourself by refusing to compromise or deny yourself simple pleasures or postpone your dreams or silence your own voice.
The world may indeed be falling apart, but we don’t have to.
What are some self-care rules you’ve adopted recently that you’d add to my list? Please share in the comments.
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