The anxiety is hitting in a different way these days.
After four plus years of living under a maniacal, somewhat sentient, giblet-filled McNugget, I realize this week that I...really have no excuse not to be my best self anymore.
Oh sure, everything that was wrong with America before Election Day is still just as wrong, and really, we need to have a far-reaching conversation about which island we should ship all the 45 supporters to--
(I hear Sardinia is so lovely. They'll really enjoy it there.)
--But whereas before, you could count on POTUS saying or doing something at least once a week that would render you emotionally and mentally unable to achieve anything, now...
It's back to work?
Over the past few years, I have seen people both crippled by life in the country as it is, while also thriving on the anger of having a Big Bad in the White House.
Now, neither one of those things is going to be quite the same.
As the pandemic rages on, I've found myself having to find new ways of saying--
Yes, I know we're all living in terror, but we have to find a way to be somewhat productive while living in terror.
I can sense the fear in some of my other procrastination-lovers.
We secretly kind of enjoyed being able to miss a deadline or skip a function, and then say something like--
"Sorry, I've just been doing really poorly, you know, with everything going on."
--And people would forgive us!
Like, instantly.
If it sounds like I'm insinuating that I and others have been making up our fragile states of mind, that's not what I'm saying.
I'm saying you play the cards you're dealt, and if you're dealt a nervous disorder and a Tasmanian Devil with the nuclear codes glued to its paw, it's pretty clear what hand you're going to put down on the table.
But now that's over with--sort of.
There's at least an expectation that we're no longer going to get daily jolts of adrenaline when the President says something like "I don't see why we can't just arrest everyone who lives in New York City" or "Wouldn't it be fun if we tried curing COVID by electrocuting ourselves?"
After World Wars I and II, some people had a hard time adjusting to a quieter way of life. The idea was that they'd come home and be grateful for the peace and domesticity, when really, even negative things like fear and tension can become addicting if you're exposed to them long enough.
The line between good excitement and bad excitement is so blurry that excitement is, for the most part, a strictly positive term, and we don't actually have a word for bad excitement.
Some of us have built brand new identities for ourselves over the past four years, revolving solely around the President. Entire podcasts have been devoted to hating him. Unfunny comedians who know how to lip-sync got Netflix deals because of him. Alyssa Milano is Alyssa Milano.
I mean, the list goes on and on.
And without many of our creative outlets available to us while this virus rages on, it seems likely that we're in danger of seeking out a new villain to take on. The obvious ones would be patriarchy, capitalism, and white supremacy, but ehhhhhhhhhhh those are all so idea-driven as opposed to the racist tabby cat we've all been used to seeing on our television a few times a day.
Truthfully, getting rid of a President really isn't all that difficult. You vote him out or you wait for his term to expire, provided he acknowledges things like terms and loss. That's not to say a lot of work didn't go into making him a one-off, but it does mean that most of us were willing to vote against him and then return to our homes to...do what exactly?
The President and COVID were a one-two promissory punch. The promise was that we really didn't need to worry about..anything really. That's the thing about nihilism. It gives you everything to fear, and nothing to fret about.
And 45 was the living embodiment of it.
Should I clean my house? You could, but...he's pissing off North Korea.
Should I go back to school? I mean, you can, but...are you really going to be alive in four years?
Should I call my friend back? Why. You can't talk to people right now. You're too depressed about [Insert any number of dozens of things.]
We now have to go back to figuring out how to be productive members of society again. I'm not talking about being busy. I know there's a level of toxicity around the word "busy" that merits a whole other essay, but I think the days of bowing out of responsibility because the weight of the world is just too much for you just...isn't really going to cut it anymore.
Oh sure, some people didn't need a rejected Aquaman villain in the Oval Office to find themselves paralyzed with apprehension every day, but some of us really leaned into despair thinking there would always be enough to keep us free from commitment, and now--
I found myself watching President-Elect Biden's acceptance speech thinking--
Wow, I feel hopeful again.
And then the anxiety kicked in.
Initially, I wasn't sure why.
But then I got a message from an editor asking me if I was still planning on having a first draft to her in a few days, and I realized there was no reason I couldn't.
And the change I could believe in suddenly became the change I had no idea what to do with.
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