dear overachievers: this election was not your fault
the burnout is all too real—but this is a relay, not an ultramarathon. pass it on.
do you ever get fed the fuck up with being The Responsible One?
despite my post-election burnout, i can’t seem to look away from stories about trump voters who found out after he won that he’s not a progressive.
[blank stare]
[rapid blinking]
[primal scream]
ahhh, that felt great.
now let’s look at what happened and think about how we’re going to take better care of ourselves and each other.
ask what your country can do for you
this election reminds me of one of my favorite stories from the onion of old, about how 98% of commuters want other people to take public transit. i can’t think of anything more american than hoping everyone else will do the right thing so that you can do the wrong thing in greater comfort.
meanwhile, all the goodie-two-shoeses like me (and like you, perhaps?) are trying to figure out what we did wrong.
if only we’d set the record straight on facebook all night instead of occasionally sleeping!
if only we’d sent an uncountably infinite number of texts!
if only we’d turned the channel to fox news and hurled a brick at that smirking bouffant!
guess what, fellow overachievers. this column is my love letter to you, and i assure you: this. election. was. not. our. fault.
they left us holding the bag. again.
the buck stops … anywhere but here
i mean, look at us!
we’re the benevolently smiling den mother holding out a platter of “magically” infinite milk and cookies.
we’re the middle-schooler who singlehandedly completes the group project.
and yes: we’re that guy who takes the bus even though he doesn’t have to.
last week, a scary number of willfully ignorant voters—with the help of many terrible people and powerful forces that wanted them to stay ignorant—left us holding the bag.
again.
we are also holding the torch, the pile of coats, the pancake turner, the hot potato, the dirty laundry, the baton, the baby, the bathwater, and whatever else they wanted us to take care of while they went out and had fun and/or got rich.
speaking of which, turns out we are not holding the buck. elon musk has all of those.
fuck affirmations. face the facts.
it’s high time we—the den mothers, project-completers, and bus-riders of the world—looked down at our armfuls of other people’s crap and figured out some better ways to share this goddamned load.
truthbomb alert!
if we want other people to step up, we’re going to have to step back.
i know that’s counterintuitive. it can feel like such a leap of faith. but it’s not actually optional.
your life’s work is a relay, not a marathon.
that doesn’t mean we just drop everything! of course we’re going to hand things off carefully and deliberately, one by one.
but we do need to start treating life as a relay—not as our own personal lifelong ultramarathon for charity.
here’s what i’m looking in the mirror and telling myself today:
i cannot untell other people’s lies by rage-correcting disinformation in the comments section.
i cannot think for other people by doomscrolling more.
i cannot make other people hate donald trump by hating him harder.
clear the haze of smoke and rage
cw: metaphor mixing, schlock
stay with me here! i’m shifting gears metaphors, and it’s been a while since i drove stick.
you’ve heard that old chestnut that’s been attributed to everyone and their mother teresa, right?
it is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.
~ confucius, michelle obama, the baby jesus, eleanor roosevelt, benjamin franklin, etc.
the schlockification of this saying has compromised my ability to take it seriously. but sure, ok. i’ve lit a candle in the darkness. after that, though, i’ve had trouble seeing beyond my own circle of light.
yikes, i think. better start burning this candle at both ends.
oh, but now it looks even darker out there! light more candles! make more light! boy, i’m really working hard now! this has to be helping, right?!
uhhh, why can’t i see anyone?
no. just stop. stop right now before you burn yourself the hell out. instead, do the unthinkable: blow out all your candles.
light one candle at one end
scary, right? the uncertainty is terrifying. but i promise it’s going to be ok.
close your eyes, breathe slowly and deeply, and count backwards from ten while your vision readjusts and the smoke starts to clear.
now open your eyes and look around: people are everywhere! and all of us have candles too. some candles are lit; some are not. but one small flame can light all the others.
and look: here i am, right beside you, squeezing your hand.
now pick one candle. you only get one. so what’s it gonna be?
my candle is climate justice, probably involving forest conservation and regeneration.1
maybe yours is your grandchild’s well-being. maybe it’s holding office. maybe it’s going back to school to follow a new dream. maybe it’s simply taking the bus to work even though you don’t have to.
letting people help you is a gift to them.
here’s a thought! maybe—just maybe—your one job right now is to let someone else hold onto your candle for a sec while you recover from chronic burnout. because fun fact: letting people help you is a gift to them.2
whatever it is, just pick one. we need to pace ourselves and get ready for what’s next.
when you’re ready, go find your people. let them re-light your candle. let them keep their own candles burning. go find more people like you whose candles aren’t yet lit.
it’s a start, right?
i’m still working out the details, but for now i’m just trying to be in the right place at the right time—something i’ll write about later.
truism courtesy of my wise and beloved spouse, david f. houghton
There is a hidden tribute to Jude in this post.
I love this! Thank-you!