So many of my friends are frozen with guilt and horror right now. Each day, the situation in the U.S. especially seems to get more grim; many people in positions of leadership are either not helping much or actively making things worse.
What can we personally do in the face of a global pandemic where the people in charge are failing to help?
Here’s a step-by-step guide:
Do not skip this step, especially if you’re tempted to!
Are you sick, burnt out, depressed, scared, furious, exhausted, etc?
Pause. Get centered. Drink some water or seltzer. Take your meds and/or vitamins.
Tell me the name of a powerful white tech founder, and/or a well-liked but low-key feared white male dominant, and I’ll show you a predator who justifies his harm with Logic. With hate. And with a thin veneer of respectable, woke, civil language.
When Jesse Buddington first met me, he was proudly using the n-word at any opportunity he could.
He tried it once or twice around me.
Even when I was a 19 year old girl, and he was a 25 year old grown man who prowled around the UC Santa Cruz dorms and sex-positive and kinky “munches”…
If you’re not sure who you can trust, or if you can trust anyone at all: trust yourself.
I’m not saying that you can only trust yourself. That would be horribly lonely, and quite possibly dangerous.
I’m saying that if and when there comes a time when you feel that nobody, even yourself, is trustworthy, that would be the time to rely on your own discernment.
And that very much includes trusting your own instincts about the people in your life who are and aren’t trustworthy.
Even if literally every single person around you is saying that you’re not…
There is no such thing as hypochondria.
Even the medical / psychiatry / therapy community (which can be pretty behind on trauma informed stuff) has changed "hypochondria" to "illness anxiety disorder.”
And there is some pretty compelling research and academic papers positing that what we called "hypochondria" (especially in women and kids) is simply trauma responses.
My dad told me from the time I was a baby that it was simply a mystery why I was so sick and sore and exhausted and terrified all the time.
He once said that maybe I just had too high an expectation…
“You do not have to be good “
—Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
Starting in 2020, I stopped being good.
Well. I don’t know that I actually stopped being good, but I stopped making it my number one goal.
I stepped into my own power, and while I didn’t behave cruelly (to the best of my knowledge), I did get frustrated, and felt anger in my body for the very first time in 14 years.
I even raised my voice once when I was defending someone in my care against viciousness, and all other attempts at stopping the harm had not…
Here is a fun fact that isn’t fun at all:
Imagine that for every hour of work you received only 8% of your wage.¹
¹But don’t worry, you’ll get a few thousand dollars up front!²
² Oh, but you’ll also need to keep working until those thousands are paid off before you can earn any more.
What’s more, it’s unlikely that an author will ever earn out their up-front payout (advance).
Even back in 2006, before the explosion of indie and self publishing, “The average book in America [sold] about…
This! And honestly, it's not an accident. The burnout is, sadly, the point. And it took me decades to realize it. https://evagantz.medium.com/it-feels-very-like-73755fa707a7
I started a company in a pandemic.
While it ultimately failed, the service itself was well-received, successful, and genuinely spread joy to people in a crappy year. I was still sick with a viral infection/pneumonia — maybe covid, but not confirmed because testing was limited at the time — when I started the company.
The business put money (about $30,000 total*) directly into the pockets of artists, freelancers, and creatives who were feeling the financial hit of the sudden depression in March/April. …
To the people I loved* (and “loved” ;) ) before I got away from Jesse,
I realize that this headline may read as incredibly dramatic, and likely alarming.
Particularly if you know me.
And especially if you’re one of the people who kissed me, hugged me, put your hands on me, playfully hit me or whipped me or zapped me with electricity, or had any type of sex with me.
It must be absolutely gut-wrenching to read this, and I am so incredibly sorry.
“Whoa, that can’t be right.” or
“But not me though … right?” or
“But… but you’re…
I don’t think it was ever true that me finally hitting my dad back to get him to stop choking my brother was mutual abuse.
I was 13, 5’3", and maybe 120 pounds. And I was a child.
Even later in life, I’ve stayed 5’3" and have never been particularly athletic. I’m curvy, but fluctuate between a dress size 0 and 8.
If you want proof of my lack of physical coordination and strength, just ask my PE teachers and gym buddies, and anyone who has seen me attempt to open a jar. …