Returning to a daily practice after a break always take a little more effort than I’d like. Today I noticed the struggle getting here, to my writing, as well as going for a walk and doing some yoga. I think that something has shifted in me over the weekend, seasonally as well as emotionally.
I gave myself some gentle space over the last couple of days to sit with my emotions rather than try to analyse them or interrogate them through writing. I wanted to experience what was going on and not be too quick to judge. Because, you see, I wasn’t feeling the way I felt I should, or the way I thought I would, on hearing the final results of the US election. I felt a certain relief, but I didn’t feel much joy. Watching people celebrate in the streets, hearing Kamala Harris and Joe Biden talk to the nation, these moments affected me, they moved me, but there was a disconnect between how I thought I would feel and how I did/do feel. I watched this video by Hank Green and so much of it resonated for me.
I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on here, but I think it’s something like this. I have been holding my breath, my stomach in knots for four years. Then, with Covid, that clenching has been even greater. Now, when there are reasons to release, I find I can’t. The muscle memory is too great. I’m not sure I can trust enough to relax. There are still too many days until 20th January. There are too many ways Trump can destabilise the democratic process. And, this result is not the end of oppression or a ‘return to normal’, it is one step towards things getting better, but only if a lot of people do the work. I realise, now, that I had been hoping for a more clear-cut result. I had wanted it to be a full-scale rejection of Trump. I am left feeling disappointed and dismayed to see the full reality, the greater shift to the right. And, I realise, that just because I may be ready for radical change, along with so many others, there are still too many people who are happy with the status quo and maintaining their privilege.
What has shifted in me since Saturday is hard to quantify. I’m not sure that it’s hope. I think that it’s resolve. The tightness in my stomach, in my chest, is not going to be eased by the actions of others; I think it can only be softened by my own action. Riding things out, waiting for 4 years to be over, these passive ways of dealing with my anxiety leave me still holding my breath. I think I’m looking for an active, internally driven way forward, that doesn’t depend on or rely on things I can’t control. I think I’m ready to take more responsibility for my joy.
A note going forward:
I’ve needed this first week of writing to remind myself how to show up here and write. When I am uncertain about something I focus on that uncertainty, and that’s how my writing gets reflexive, focused on itself and what’s in my mind. But, this doesn’t necessarily need space outside, with others. So, now that we’re well into November and I’ve got 21 posts left I’m moving the goal posts and committing to only writing about things that relate to creativity and the work I do with artists and makers. That’s why this blog exists and it’s ultimately where I’d like it to go. I have no idea if that matters to anyone else, but I just wanted to make it clear that this won’t be a month’s challenge of internal monologue posts.