I shouldn't voice what I am quite sure many people I know are feeling since the election. I shouldn't presume. You think it can't get worse, but it does. My book group is reading "On Tyranny" by Timothy Snyder and my Unitarian Universalist congregation has selected it a our common read for the fall. The discussion may help if we don't all become vocal mourners agreeing with each other. Action items would be more helpful. You have stated so beautifully the hollow, though stuffed feeling that I have been experiencing. It just leaves me shaking my head, but that only creates a sense of hopelessness. BIG SIGH!
Your book club must be a source for some "lively" discussion, Ann. How great that you have that and will get to revisit the same book with a very different group. I think that mix of perspectives is something we need more of right now. Please report back! And I could not agree more about the need for action items. Little irks me more than moral outrage on a feedback loop. I think you are already engaged in one: community-building! Thank you for that and for being part of this one.
Gorgeous prose. Maddening reality. Thank you for putting words to how many of us are feeling, I know "flat" doesn't cut it either. The whole thing often sends me in a tantrum, shaking my fists and yelling "IT'S NOT FAIR!" But that does nothing. Taking tiny wins along the way, like marsh mud.
I've heard a handful of wise folks offer that we are not yet ready for the meaningful, collective push, that we are trying to rebuild without having new scaffolding. Their point is that we know what we don't want, but we don't know what we DO want, or what is better to put in place of what we know isn't working. That's a bigger question than I'm prepared to answer, but I appreciate the idea of trying to get more of us rowing in the same direction. Tiny wins aren't nothing. Most days right now, they're everything. Thanks, Eileen.
Yes. A unified message would be hopeful. Building on top of shit is still shit. How long until Sasha and Melia can run for president? They probably have no interest but I still want that Obama energy. Like, YES, this person can speak for me. I am well aware it's SOOOO much bigger than one person doing one job but that would be a significant win, IMO.
I can't tell you how much I love that quote, but I can tell you that I plan to fully integrate it into my vernacular. Brilliant! (I'm going to ignore the fact that I've been hearing cicadas fly into my sliding glass door a lot lately, too. 😬 ) Appreciate you, Barry!
We do, Darrell, even when it's sickening. It absolutely helps me to remember that the onslaught is strategic. Focusing on that gives me the strength to keep pushing back in whatever manner I can. So good to see you. Was actually thinking about you this morning, and here you are!
I wish I could paint some other picture. And while it's hard knowing there is so little we can do, it's also heartening to know we're doing what we can together. Thanks for being here, Kate. It means a lot.
Thank you, June. It comes in waves for me, and sometimes I regret asking others to ride them with me. Then again. I think most everyone here is already bobbing around in this storm in their own way. Grateful for you.
There is so much here, Elizabeth, and much hinted at and not explained that gives this a mysterious feeling that circles in and around the headlines and concrete world context.
(You've said all this - and beautifully so.)
Flat... definitely a feeling many of us know in one context or another.... as a description of a response to the world, it says a lot. But as you note, it maybe isn't exactly what it seems because there is this incredible level of overwhelm or heartbreak or sadness or frustration or fear (or lots of other things). I often equate "flat" to a form of tuning out, emptiness, or apathy, and that isn't what you are describing. It is interesting, in the irony of semantics, that "flat" is how all of that overwhelm feels. Maybe it is also the feeling of being steamrolled by the world?
I'm left wondering though about the appointment. I'm making all kinds of stories up now, with the few details given. (Don't answer about that. The mystery is fine. Just noting how it lands.) And those handknit socks that are tucked away with bad memories. Ooof.
"Among friends, you say you feel flat but decide that’s inaccurate. Flat is empty, void, unable to care. You are not that. You are overwhelmed, full to overflowing and simultaneously drained. You care too much, if caring too much is possible in a time when echoes come back with battle scars."
Thank you for considering what went unrevealed, Amy. I often lean (err?) in the opposite direction and was aware that this one asked more of you readers in that regard. My inability to reconcile daily events these days was a heavy influence. There are so many gaps in my understanding! I appreciate the pairing of flat with steamrolled. Yes, I think that's right. Maybe flattened as distinct from flat?
The socks are a reminder of a season of friendship that ran its course. I have a number of those in my life. This particular one doesn't sting as much as some others, so there's that. I consider myself fortunate to have gained more than I've lost. So very glad you're here.
Thank you for writing this vulnerable piece Elizabeth, for sneaking into our hearts and reading what is written there, for allowing us to see shreds of you that recognize the light in us. May we go on.
Donna, thank YOU. It's interesting, isn't it, how counterintuitively reassuring it is to know that we're not the only one(s) feeling this way? May we go on, indeed. There's no telling how long we will be on this flavor of journey, but we will go on. Good to see you here.
Thank you, Thomas. I'm grateful for the acknowledgement and for knowing myself well enough to be sure the light will resurface in due time. Maybe I need to get my bare feet in some marsh mud -- but right now the mosquitoes might be more than I can take. 🦟
There are those moments the I feel hollowed out. It feels like grief which wells up unannounced. And then I watch and listen to the bees; everyday they show up. And so can I.
Funny you mention bees, Susan. There are voices out there in Substackland suggesting that in order to grow/retain readers, writers need to niche-down, focus on specific topics. The other day I was musing about how I could probably write something every week about birds or bees! Sure would be an easy publication to find a title for. 😅 As I said somewhere else here, these feelings comes in waves for me. Nature is often what coaxes me back up from the bottom of the well. Thank you for the reminder!
Thank you! You are so thoughtful. And...um...in the spirit of authenticity, could we make it an orangeade? Lemonade makes my throat feel like it's closing up, which seems ill-suited to the times. 😅
I love the raw honesty of this. And all the white space: It gives room for our own experiences to come in and sit beside yours. Those socks. That appointment. I just want a moment like those you can't remember last having and not have it tainted by thoughts of how different such moments now feel.
Yes. This. All of this.
Fist bumps of weary solidarity, Vicki. I'm glad you're here.
I shouldn't voice what I am quite sure many people I know are feeling since the election. I shouldn't presume. You think it can't get worse, but it does. My book group is reading "On Tyranny" by Timothy Snyder and my Unitarian Universalist congregation has selected it a our common read for the fall. The discussion may help if we don't all become vocal mourners agreeing with each other. Action items would be more helpful. You have stated so beautifully the hollow, though stuffed feeling that I have been experiencing. It just leaves me shaking my head, but that only creates a sense of hopelessness. BIG SIGH!
Your book club must be a source for some "lively" discussion, Ann. How great that you have that and will get to revisit the same book with a very different group. I think that mix of perspectives is something we need more of right now. Please report back! And I could not agree more about the need for action items. Little irks me more than moral outrage on a feedback loop. I think you are already engaged in one: community-building! Thank you for that and for being part of this one.
Gorgeous prose. Maddening reality. Thank you for putting words to how many of us are feeling, I know "flat" doesn't cut it either. The whole thing often sends me in a tantrum, shaking my fists and yelling "IT'S NOT FAIR!" But that does nothing. Taking tiny wins along the way, like marsh mud.
I've heard a handful of wise folks offer that we are not yet ready for the meaningful, collective push, that we are trying to rebuild without having new scaffolding. Their point is that we know what we don't want, but we don't know what we DO want, or what is better to put in place of what we know isn't working. That's a bigger question than I'm prepared to answer, but I appreciate the idea of trying to get more of us rowing in the same direction. Tiny wins aren't nothing. Most days right now, they're everything. Thanks, Eileen.
Yes. A unified message would be hopeful. Building on top of shit is still shit. How long until Sasha and Melia can run for president? They probably have no interest but I still want that Obama energy. Like, YES, this person can speak for me. I am well aware it's SOOOO much bigger than one person doing one job but that would be a significant win, IMO.
I just read this quote from our local meteorologist, and that is my response to all of your beautiful writing today Betsy...
" The cicadas have it right....sometimes, we need to sit in a tree, and scream."
I can't tell you how much I love that quote, but I can tell you that I plan to fully integrate it into my vernacular. Brilliant! (I'm going to ignore the fact that I've been hearing cicadas fly into my sliding glass door a lot lately, too. 😬 ) Appreciate you, Barry!
We have to stay full of all these things, no matter how many attempts there are to wear us down. I have to keep reminding myself of that.
We do, Darrell, even when it's sickening. It absolutely helps me to remember that the onslaught is strategic. Focusing on that gives me the strength to keep pushing back in whatever manner I can. So good to see you. Was actually thinking about you this morning, and here you are!
Whew- holy cow sister - this is where we are -what a gorgeously accurate picture you have crafted of our current situation.
I wish I could paint some other picture. And while it's hard knowing there is so little we can do, it's also heartening to know we're doing what we can together. Thanks for being here, Kate. It means a lot.
I hear you. I recognise my own fear and bewilderment.
Thank you, June. It comes in waves for me, and sometimes I regret asking others to ride them with me. Then again. I think most everyone here is already bobbing around in this storm in their own way. Grateful for you.
There is so much here, Elizabeth, and much hinted at and not explained that gives this a mysterious feeling that circles in and around the headlines and concrete world context.
(You've said all this - and beautifully so.)
Flat... definitely a feeling many of us know in one context or another.... as a description of a response to the world, it says a lot. But as you note, it maybe isn't exactly what it seems because there is this incredible level of overwhelm or heartbreak or sadness or frustration or fear (or lots of other things). I often equate "flat" to a form of tuning out, emptiness, or apathy, and that isn't what you are describing. It is interesting, in the irony of semantics, that "flat" is how all of that overwhelm feels. Maybe it is also the feeling of being steamrolled by the world?
I'm left wondering though about the appointment. I'm making all kinds of stories up now, with the few details given. (Don't answer about that. The mystery is fine. Just noting how it lands.) And those handknit socks that are tucked away with bad memories. Ooof.
"Among friends, you say you feel flat but decide that’s inaccurate. Flat is empty, void, unable to care. You are not that. You are overwhelmed, full to overflowing and simultaneously drained. You care too much, if caring too much is possible in a time when echoes come back with battle scars."
Thank you for considering what went unrevealed, Amy. I often lean (err?) in the opposite direction and was aware that this one asked more of you readers in that regard. My inability to reconcile daily events these days was a heavy influence. There are so many gaps in my understanding! I appreciate the pairing of flat with steamrolled. Yes, I think that's right. Maybe flattened as distinct from flat?
The socks are a reminder of a season of friendship that ran its course. I have a number of those in my life. This particular one doesn't sting as much as some others, so there's that. I consider myself fortunate to have gained more than I've lost. So very glad you're here.
Thank you for writing this vulnerable piece Elizabeth, for sneaking into our hearts and reading what is written there, for allowing us to see shreds of you that recognize the light in us. May we go on.
Donna, thank YOU. It's interesting, isn't it, how counterintuitively reassuring it is to know that we're not the only one(s) feeling this way? May we go on, indeed. There's no telling how long we will be on this flavor of journey, but we will go on. Good to see you here.
What a heart-full outpouring, Elizabeth. I can tell from the other comments that you're giving voice to what's filling a lot of hearts, these days.
Yes, and thank you. The collective mourning is real. I appreciate you being part of this conversation so very much.
Gosh.
There is nothing to say…
XXXX
Thanks, Prue. My goal is to find something else to say -- something more uplifting -- next round. I'm committed. 🩷
Acknowledging. Yes. I know not what more to say, but yes. I hear this. (And huzzah to the marsh mud.)
Thank you, Thomas. I'm grateful for the acknowledgement and for knowing myself well enough to be sure the light will resurface in due time. Maybe I need to get my bare feet in some marsh mud -- but right now the mosquitoes might be more than I can take. 🦟
There are those moments the I feel hollowed out. It feels like grief which wells up unannounced. And then I watch and listen to the bees; everyday they show up. And so can I.
Funny you mention bees, Susan. There are voices out there in Substackland suggesting that in order to grow/retain readers, writers need to niche-down, focus on specific topics. The other day I was musing about how I could probably write something every week about birds or bees! Sure would be an easy publication to find a title for. 😅 As I said somewhere else here, these feelings comes in waves for me. Nature is often what coaxes me back up from the bottom of the well. Thank you for the reminder!
Here’s a nice, cold glass of lemonade, Elizabeth. I hope it helps a little.
Thank you! You are so thoughtful. And...um...in the spirit of authenticity, could we make it an orangeade? Lemonade makes my throat feel like it's closing up, which seems ill-suited to the times. 😅
Absolutely!
I love the raw honesty of this. And all the white space: It gives room for our own experiences to come in and sit beside yours. Those socks. That appointment. I just want a moment like those you can't remember last having and not have it tainted by thoughts of how different such moments now feel.