I’m avoiding the news, avoiding the magazine covers in the checkout line, asvoiding knowledge of wrongs in the world I feel powerless to stop. My heart breaks for Aleppo, and there’s nothing I can do. I have not felt this small and inconsequential since childhood. At least when I was a child I believed I had the power of life and death in my tongue.
Now I don’t believe I have any power at all. I’m not a VIP or CEO. I’m not a homeowner or business leader or an angel investor. I’m one small, weak, exhausted woman, one detestable single mother, one more queer in a world that doesn’t want us. I have no capital, political or economic. I rely on others and am not shielded from that fact.
I know some of this is brain chemistry. I probably have another ten years to go of feeling incompetent asnd helpless one week out of each montyh. I’m at the point in my cycle where hope is impossible. Next week I will be able to hope again; believing that to be true is as close to hope as I can get today.
The world feels dark and scary today, and I don’t feel brave or adventurous. I feel disabled, broken, weak, incapable, hopeless, helpless, and unforgivably strange. All my childhood issues, from the cult, from the child molester down the block, from having my disabilities labeled as sins, are kicking up a storm in my head this morning.
I don’t feel strong enough or brave enough or safe enough to survive a national nosedive into hell. When I picture revolutions, glorious or otherwise, I always imagine myself as one of the first to die. I hold no illusions I have what it takes to survive a breakdown of society. I think of the people trapped in their homes in Aleppo, waiting to be killed. They couldn’t flee in time and no one is coming to save them.