this post was submitted on 18 Nov 2024
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Anger is like fire. It burns hot, but it needs fuel, and leaves behind nothing but ash.
I've been angry for a long, long time. Now I feel tired and broken. Nothing left but the occasional ember in the cinders.
I'll recover, I'm sure. But not today. And probably not tomorrow. Probably not for a while.
Lucky for you, I feel enough rage for the both of us. I am consumed by an unquenchable bloodlust of such magnitude that I genuinely do not feel like the words exist to properly describe it. All of these fascist fuckers think they are about to make us 'find out' but boy oh boy have they been doing a lot of fucking around.
I will not go quietly when they come for me or my neighbors.
Sounds like you need to sweep out the chimney. It's a dirty job, it sucks, and it'll only get worse if you put it off. But in time you'll be burning like new again.
I don't know exactly how the metaphor applies in your situation, but I've struggled for a long time with burnout and that resonates with me. Hopefully you find some comfort
Maybe you could disconnect and focus on your irl circle for a while.
All of my interests relate back to political and philosophical thought in some way. Closing my eyes won't help. It's not the barrage of stupidity that's killing me, though that is aggravating. It's the hopelessness, and that returns as long as the matter is considered, whether there's news to go with it or not.
You can develop those subjects irl too, for example by joining a local non profit that focuses on something that you like. I think it's the best way to go through this difficult period.
My point is that I can't mentally avoid the reality of living under a Nero, as much as I'd like to. Not that I won't find ways to cope, some helpful to broader society, and some not.
You. You impress me, for whatever that's worth. Stay with us and stretch my brain a bit more.
I feel you man. Most of my friends want to bury their heads in their sand to cope and ignore everything, I just can’t do that. I want to be angry for a while and talk about what’s making me angry.
I'm far too aware that the level of action I'm willing to take and the level of action it would take for one individual to change the course of nations are too far apart for anything but for my mood to change with the winds of the times, despair or hope as massive demographics drive them. On some level, I think, I would prefer to be clueless to that.
But I can't be. Some fuckers taught me how to read and write and shit, and now I'm cursed with literacy and awareness. I fucking hate it.
Don't forget critical thinking.
Heck yes.
I had a media career and gained a... habit if not love... for news and journalism in a way. The habit is crushing now in the way that an addiction quickens into life-threatening dependence in the blink of an eye.
I'm wrecked, honestly. About all of it, but there's a little extra ketchup on the shit sandwich for me in the abandonment of journalism we see every day. Not to mention the impending media acceptance of Trump's retribution.
I feel you in this thread and it hurts because all I need to do is nod along.
Most of my IRL circle are the problem... I am despairing that I need to so heavily prune core parts of my circle.
Maybe you can develop new circles without having to cut existing ones, like joining some club or non profit about subjects that you like.
In the words of my therapist, "that's just rage". Anger is the feeling that says "no" and motivates you to action, not the one that kicks and screams and does nothing.
Anger has kept one foot going in front of the other at many points in my life. It can't run on nothing. It can't burn infinitely.
Anger is fueled by love. My anger is fueled by a woefully irrational love for this country, my state, my city, my neighborhood, my friends, my family, the culture and beauty birthed by this nation, now being set ablaze to avoid facing the atrocities committed to build it. While i am not fond of the past, but i must embrace it and love it; and only once there is not even a memory left of this place i call home, will flame burn out