recovery tools for post election despair

because I cannot resist if I am not hydrated

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On Wednesday morning, a fellow preschool mom and I made a sort of sad eye contact at morning drop off. My heart was heavy; the kids were giddy, playing in piles of leaves. The leaves were crunchy, their faces resplendent. The sun was brilliant. My hope felt trampled.

“Do you want a hug?” she asked me.

I said yes, and she wrapped her arms around me and thus unleashed in me a torrent of tears. I just stood there and cried. If you know me you know I am a crier. But still, I was trying to keep it together just a little in front of the kids and their people.

But I couldn’t, just then.

Looking at my daughter’s face gave me this twang in my heart. How was I going to explain to her - “when I was young, women used to have rights?”

It’s been several days and so many conversations, windy text threads, tears, grief, rage, uncertainty, podcasts trying to break down the wtf of it all, poems, I told you sos, cries to build bridges, cries to cut ties, cries, cries, cries.

On Thursday, I flew to Los Angeles for an event with one of my clients. It’s been beautiful distraction. I’m writing this from the hotel breakfast buffet with my coffee and my orange juice. As usual, I am thinking about how grateful I am for recovery, by which I mean eating disorder recovery, for equipping me with some tools to walk through…all of this [gestures around].

At their best, 12 step programs are amazing templates for surviving life, which includes when things are especially tough. Things are especially tough, so buckle up. And! And, we’re going to survive. We’re going to walk through it, together.

This is just some of what’s been helping me. I’m no expert, but maybe something will resonate. As they say, “take what you like and leave the rest.”

First things first

I felt like I couldn’t sleep or breathe election night. Wednesday was a sad blur. On Thursday, I had a deadline. I needed to take a shower. I had to pack. Another phrase is “next right action.” One foot in front of the other. I can’t finish my article if I’m too anxious to focus. I can’t even start it. Deep breaths. Short walk. Long shower. Cold glass of water. Extra shot of espresso. First things, then second things.

Go where it’s warm 

I’ve also heard “Don’t go to the hardware store for oranges.” Which means, don’t go seeking support from a troll, etc. I have been leaning into a fierce outflow of love from my people. This means my wonderful husband - who is really good at holding hope and optimism but also being frighteningly smart. This means my kids who often challenge me profoundly but are just beaming with so much joy and love and goodness it’s absurd. My parents (even though my dad joked about cyanid pills on election night, which wasn’t funny, or maybe was a little bit too soon). This means my wonderful friends who I can call and cry, who can call me to cry and I will listen, and probably cry a little, too. And a fellow mom who I don’t really know who invited us for pizza and made us gin with lemonade to sip on her porch while the kids played ice cream shop.

Kindness melts the edges of the giant frozen iceberg of despair.

Service

All that postcard writing and phone banking and donating was not for nothing, I cannot believe that, but there are other actions I can take. A constellation of ways to be of service. I volunteered for my daughter’s school book fair. I am trying to love my people the best I can. Service can be calling or texting somebody and asking how they’re doing. It can be showing up at a 12-step meeting. It can be asking someone if they need a hug.

One day at a time

I am interested in what’s going to happen in the next four years, but my brain cannot hold that without spiraling, so it’s helpful to attempt to live here, now, where my feet are planted, in this day. I am sitting next to a teenager with this incredible yellow chick headband and she is seriously rolling her eyes at her parents while eating a blueberry muffin. My OJ is fresh squeezed and really yummy. Tony is texting me that he has just taken the kids to a local puppet show which I think is very cool. I am going to see some amazing LA friends today. I am going to keep coming back to this, here, now when my brain starts to panic and catastrophize and take me at a million miles an hour to all the worst places.

You can restart your day anytime

I am going to fail at this and start doomscrolling and worrying. But I can try again. Some days feel like trash but you can start a new day at 9 AM or 12 PM or even 5 M or 10 PM because, hey, why not. It can always go up. We deserve a reset, or a dozen resets.

The serenity prayer

Every meeting starts this way:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

If you think it’s about giving up, read it again.

If you think it’s about staying small, read it again.

Sending love and hugs and hope you’re hanging in.

xo,

Hannah

PS Hannah Selinger and I are teaching food writing 101 next month. It’s going to be a good one! Snag $25 off with code “friendofhannah.”

PPS Here’s some happy distraction: I wrote about New Jersey’s incredible cheesemakers for Culture.

PPPS And about New Jersey’s best cheese shops for Edible Jersey. I am embracing my Jersey girl!

PPPPS And, over at The Cheese Professor, about boozy cheeses. Two amazing things in one.