This Is A Lot Right Now

Oh, look—another crisis. The world is exploding. Again. 

At this point, I don’t remember what it’s like to live in a world that is not on fire. Genocide, disastrous debate performances, the realization of the dangers of Project 2025, genocide again, Supreme Court decisions that upend democracy, an attempted assassination…every time I think that something has got to give, nothing gives. 

And, of course, the moment the world explodes once more, so do the think pieces, perfectly-stated viral reactions, and pressure up the wazoo to take action right now regarding the thing everyone is screaming about. 

I’ll speak for myself in this article, but I have a feeling I’m speaking for someone else, too. Perhaps, it’s you. 

The moment the world implodes with, yet, another political or humanitarian crisis and everyone’s think-tank caps immediately spring into position, the only thing I feel inclined to do is hide. I find myself mindlessly scrolling as I internalize my panic and anxiety. The pressure to have the perfect academically intelligent response to the events that just occurred is looming. 

This pressure is, in some ways, evident due to the nature of my work about white supremacy culture. White supremacy is the bedrock of all of these crises as many thought leaders quickly and so eloquently point out. (I struggle to be one of those thought leaders because thoughts evade me during these paramount moments.) The pressure is also the result of white supremacy culture — the persistent need to prove yourself in a perfectionistic, productive, and overly qualified way is the basis of our culture, and that culture stems from systemic white supremacy. Though my work is about breaking up with white supremacy culture and no longer succumbing to its unrealistic, nearly unattainable, and dehumanizing standards, I still find myself wrestling with that pressure to succumb daily. White supremacy culture has infiltrated itself into our world-event trauma responses. Amid our grief, shock, panic, and anger, we are bombarded with immense pressure never to miss a beat. The information and misinformation are on overdrive. Everyone is shouting opinions and analysis from every direction. It feels as if every single follower, friend, and family member is watching your every move to see how you decide to add your voice to the conversation or whether your silence is what speaks the loudest. 

Somewhere in my disassociated panicked doom scroll, my eyes eventually revert upwards and reality greets me. The ingredients for my kids’ unmade lunches are staring at me. I hear their footsteps abound from the floor above. 

Right. Yes. Lunches. 

Oh, yeah, the dirty dishes I was supposed to wash before I made the lunches. I glance at the microwave to reckon with how much time I have allowed to escape during my pressure-filled doom scroll trance. 

Shoot. 

“We’re not done with homeschooling,” I think to myself as I open the refrigerator and the empty milk carton reminds me that an errand run is needed asap. 

Boom, boom, boom. 

Footsteps are dashing down the stairs and into the kitchen. One sister is not sharing. The other sister is not getting their way. Screaming has ensued. 

Life surrounds me. Life that demands my immediate attention without a care in the world about the dumpster fire that I was just witnessing on my phone. 

Now, my brain is a jumble of anxious thoughts. I’ve spiraled. I’m thinking of the water I should be drinking, the workout I wish I would have done, the bill I forgot to pay, and whether the appointment I scheduled is today or tomorrow. The kids are still screaming. The lunch is still unmade. The world is still on fire. 

This is…a lot. 

Life is a lot. The world being on fire is a lot. And when the world-fire’s a lot-ness doesn’t stop your life’s a lot-ness, it is normal for your ability to respond to anything to be, well, limited. And, let me hold your hand when I say this: it is okay that your life needs more attention than you can give the world right now. 

Let me repeat that: it is okay that your life needs more attention than you can give the world right now.

It is okay to log off of social media, to allow silence to be what speaks loudly, to continue prioritizing your self-care, to pay your bills, feed your kids, and walk your dog. It is okay if you are in survival mode. Believe it or not, we all are, even those who can fake as if they aren’t because they somehow drafted a thesis of a response within hours of a crisis. 

With each crisis we face, words become harder. It’s as if someone has taken an eraser to the thoughts that have comprised three years’ worth of research into white supremacy and wiped it from my brain. This is partly because this research is not my full-time gig. My full-time gig is what I mentioned above: little feet making LOUD sounds, subtraction drills and history lesson plans, three-days’ worth of hair washing and braiding LOTS of thick hair every other week, serving as a private chef and chauffer to the pickiest little eaters with the busiest schedules, managing epic meltdowns and constant nervous system regulation, and tennis practice as many times as I can squeeze it in for my sanity. Oh, and I coach my girls in tennis, too. When your brain is occupied with infinite little moments, space is lacking to fully grasp the biggest ones, no matter what they are. My brain is full. My life is demanding. My life will not stop being demanding when the world explodes. 

Your life will not stop being demanding when the world explodes.

You are allowed to join me in the “I’m barely keeping it together so I ain’t got nothing to to say right now,” club. Or, maybe you’re a part of the “I’m so infuriated, fearful, and anxious that my nervous system is in freeze mode,” club. Maybe you’re a member of both clubs. I, for one, have both t-shirts in my closet. 

So, what do we do as members of these clubs? We make our self-care a priority. We continue to see to the demands that our lives are demanding from us, without guilt. We log off of social media, turn off the news, and put our phones on Do Not Disturb. We light a candle, make some coffee, and nose-dive into a good book that helps us escape for a little while. Yes, its a privilege to do this. And, that’s okay. Exercising this privilege is what will help clear your brain so that you can slowly tune back into the noise and formulate a response to the chaos that makes sense for you. And, perhaps this is still soemthing you do privately. Perhaps you’re able to tune back in, but your repsonse happens outside of the public eye. Perhaps you’re led to respond by attending a local city council meeting, school board meeting, or the next local candidate rally in your jurisdiction. Perhaps you feel led to call up a family member and have that long overdue talk that you’ve been avoiding. Perhaps you decide to pick up a book that helps you understand white supremacy, whiteness, andd politics in a way that is honest, digestible, and approachable. Or, perhaps you realize that you do, finally, have something to say publicly, and you say it, confidently, because you gave yourself the appropriate time and space to process the chaos and tend to your life’s demands while caring for yourself. 

Wherever you find yourself right now, be gentle with yourself. We are going through so much as a society, and even more individually. Our nervous systems are beyond fried. And, while we cannot control just how much life will life, politics will politic, and society will society, we can control how we care for ourselves in the midst of the fire. We don’t have to allow ourselves to succumb to the flames. We can excuse ourselves for a moment and come back when we have the capacity to do so. 

I’m not giving permission for complete diassociation. Please do not use this essay as your excuse to be completely out of touch with the world around you. Do not abuse your privilege. Use it wisely. Use it so that you may come back stronger, healthier, and prepared to get back in the ring.