Is there a self-help column for this?

I’ve seen them for nearly every human dilemma: an expert or two advising how to contend with crises we encounter as we stagger through a “normal” life: death of a loved one, or a marriage; loss of a career, or a friend; a life-threatening medical diagnosis. Where is the columnist with advice on how to feel now, amidst the looming newly-elected American plutocracy, the demise of decency and integrity in our public life, and the city of Los Angeles afire in a climate event from hell?

And don’t lob the five stages of grief at me. The 2024 election results already sent me on a roller coaster ride, twisting and turning through anger, grief, disbelief, despondency and more-than-occasional glimpses of my inner Furiosa. I skipped right over denial and still don’t see acceptance anywhere on the horizon. The fact that nearly half of the folks who voted are just groovy with insurrection, overt criminal corruption, fear-mongering, lying, misogyny, racism, and driving up division, anger, and imperialism is beyond my inner homogenizer. I’m never going to find a way to get along and go along with the ignorance, the ugliness, and the relentless rage and incivility that is so fun for these folks that they went out of their way to check all the boxes to ensure it would become the rule. So, like many of you: I’m suffering the loss of who I thought the American people are. And that’s just one thing.

Another is the clear and present danger to our democracy itself, like a fatal disease diagnosis. Health experts: let’s do a quick check-up! Our heart walls are thickened by hatred, our lungs are full of suffocating lies, and—like a cancer—the corruption of oligarchy has metastasized throughout the body of our government and the people. Any advice for dealing with that? So, thanks to the aforementioned voters—dozens of billionaires and multi-millionaires are queued up at the front door of the White House, ready to steal or destroy everything we believe in, not to mention the riches and resources of a prosperous country. What cancer doesn’t know is that once it consumes the body—the body dies. But these malignants have already declared other bodies they plan to feast upon: Canada, Panama, Greenland.

Wellness columnists: d’you think if I eat more leafy greens, vary my pace to improve my heart rate during my daily walks, or meditate every day that I could find peace with all this? I cannot find peace with this. I was already weary from years of fighting for justice, good governance, and climate action before the elections in November. Several years ago, I diagnosed myself as suffering from climate grief. Now I also have democracy despair. I don’t think there is a multi-vitamin or a fitness fix for this ongoing bereavement and battle fatigue.

And then yesterday, I was reaching out to friends and colleagues in southern California to see if they were safe and how I might help. Amidst the terrifying news videos, I saw a report that the president-elect spewed a vomitous post filled with flagrant lies, petty insults, and heaping blame upon those fighting valiantly to contain the chaotic wildfires in Los Angeles. A wake of vultures in fake media began to amplify it, relentlessly repeating the poisonous lies and adding to them.  It was right then that I realized I was in a dangerous state of emotional debilitation. Because I began to feel real hatred. Not just abhorrence for the actions of those bloodsuckers who conquered voters’ willfully-ignorant, gullible, lazy minds with the lies and the loathing and the hate-mongering. But for the extortionists themselves.

Who I am, how I feel, what I think and believe—that’s the final frontier in my battle for emotional equilibrium. I don’t want to walk around filled with hate. And I don’t think I have all the answers, but I do know that if I surrender to that inclination, I’m no longer who I want to be.

The world has handed us a plethora of warnings and signs. Prison fences surround the US Capitol building as the election results are certified. An ex-president—an exceedingly decent man—dies… just as an indecent one prepares to take over the government. The richest people in the world openly plot to divide up the earth among themselves without any sign of opposition. The second largest and one of the most beautiful cities in America is ablaze in a wind-driven demonic out-picturing of what decades of climate denial has wrought.

I realize I no longer have time to stagger around in confusion and dismay. Like those in the path of the fires, I need to get up, grab who and what is dearest, and get moving to survive. No time to wait for the experts to weigh in. I want to feel my own strength again.

I once told my production team that I am the person they want to be with when the boat is sinking. Because I have a lifelong habit of altruism in crisis. I’ll get everyone into the lifeboats, strap their flotation vests on them securely, hand them the paddles, and start them singing Kumbaya so they can paddle together in time. After which, if I get that far, I might find myself injured or bleeding or so exhausted I can’t get my own life vest on properly. But somehow, when I help others first, I always survive. It’s just who I am.

I feel ready to feel like myself again.