Don’t Be Guilted Out Of Joy

It’s a scary, scary time in America.

I have never before woken up with dread lacing its way through my bloodstream and DNA on a constant basis — not even during my own three dances with cancer.

But now? It’s there.

Every time I take a shower, feed the birds outside, savor a cup of coffee, give a treat to my cats, I wonder “how long? How long will I have this? Will I be crushed in an Orwellian nightmare? Will I have to flee? Be an impoverished refugee in Europe? How long do I have?”

I look at my bookshelves and mentally calculate how many books I’d be forced to burn — and which ones I might want to hide.

I walk outside and wonder how long it will be safe to stand in my own driveway without overhead drones or self-appointed Dominionist militias asking me what I was doing outside my house.

Then I shake myself. Hard.

And I look in the mirror.

I remind myself that there are more of us than them — and yes, even though that was also the case in Nazi Germany and the Nazis took over, it means that I will not be completely alone if I stay in America while it comes crashing down.

And I remind myself that there are still joys. And there’s no guilt in taking them.

That means savoring that coffee in gratitude, not fear.

It means reading those books NOW that the Christofascists may consider heretical later.

It means reminding myself that while cats were considered Satan’s Minions in the Middle Ages, they aren’t now. And we’ll find a way to feed them.

Does it mean I stop fighting? Hell no.

I do what I can to force back the dark — whether it’s getting out the vote, talking to those on the fence or who no longer think their vote matters, or even reminding myself of what we CAN do right now by supporting others who understand what we’re up against.

Please, please — I know we’re all tired of the hatred. We’re tired of having to fight every single waking moment. (And if you’re tired? Think of the generational exhaustion of our brothers and sisters of color, of differing religions, of those who have just started to breathe coming out of the closet of denial. We who are (like it or not) privileged whites are just learning what they have dealt with for decades.)

The idea that this feels like forever is exhausting.

But the only way to fight — to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint, and may be for years — is to grab the joy where you can. Take in every single kindness, every single tiny luxury like a cup of coffee, take the wonder of them right down to the rind.

If you don’t savor the joy without guilt now, in the future you may forget what we’re fighting for.