Getting a blog post out this week has been hard. Charlotte and her younger daughter move next week, and I start a new part-time job (!) two days before they do. Add in a full schedule of classes and life in 2025 (Jesus, just this WEEK), and I have been struck with the worst anxiety I’ve had since the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, when I slept with all the lights on, including the big one, for a year.

But I’m squared away – the military folks will know what I mean by that. (I was raised by a particularly neurotic U.S. Airman.) I’m in pain, but I’ve got my shit together, and I’m doing what I need to do. It’s just that I’m doing it with tears running down my face a lot of the time.

The life lesson that’s most relevant right now is that, to be OK, we have to have the determination to be OK. Make no mistake, wanting to be OK does not make it so. But the conviction is something that can only come from within; we can teach people healthy coping mechanisms, self-acceptance, and life skills until the end of days, but we cannot instill in them the will to thrive – notice what word I did not use just then. Humans are animals, hard-wired to survive, just like every other organism on Earth – disconcerted evangelicals, I hope you choke on your outrage – so the will to live isn’t as hard to come by as emo musicians would have us believe. But one thing I’ve learned in 47 years of life is that the will to thrive is actually quite rare.

Let’s all pretend we’re holding hands as I say this: Mental health – not survival – requires one thing from us that we, including me, rarely want to give: discipline. No one wants a detailed account of my internal torment – I’m not Emily Brontë, and this ain’t that kind of blog – but suffice it to say there have been a lot of depression, grief, anger, disappointment, FEAR (so much fear), anxiety, shame, internalized homophobia, confusion, et al. And, as humans, we want quick, easy answers: If it weren’t for the government, none of this would be happening. I should’ve done more to make Charlotte feel safe. It’s Charlotte’s fault for being scared. Charlotte is leaving because she doesn’t love me enough. I’m not lovable. No one cares about my fear or my safety.

Except not one of those things is true.

The U.S. government hasn’t cared about any citizens except the rich, white ones since its inception; transgender people are only the boogeyman du jour. If the current “administration” has its way, it won’t ever let anyone except the very richest, very whitest people feel safe. I’m a 5’4″ Southern woman with a disposition like a bulletproof rattlesnake; I have always done everything I can to make both Charlotte and me as safe as possible. Charlotte has every reason and right to feel (extremely) scared, but, even if she weren’t, her sense of safety is hers to manage, not mine. Charlotte is leaving because it’s what she needs to do to feel and, hopefully, be safe; it has nothing to do with me. Just because things affect me doesn’t mean they’re happening because of me. I am completely lovable (see above re. “disposition like a bulletproof rattlesnake”). Many people care about my fear and safety; just because they’re not everyone’s priority at all times and in all situations doesn’t mean no one cares.

When, I ask you, was the last time your life was so simple that there was only ONE right answer? Only ONE right course of action? It does happen, for sure. When that woman in Idaho got dragged out of a town hall meeting by Brownshirts, there was only one right thing to do: forcibly intervene. Do you remember how many people so much as stood up? Zero. So even when life hands them a situation that’s pretty cut-and-dried, many people still waffle. So let’s agree ahead of time to cut out any naivete about moral absolutes.

Part of the will to thrive, I think, comes down to a concept called emotional sobriety. If you’re unfamiliar, here’s an explanation from Scientific American:

“One of the cornerstones of alcoholism recovery is a concept called emotional sobriety. The idea is that alcoholics and other addicts hoping to stay sober over the long haul must learn to regulate the negative feelings that can lead to discomfort, craving and—ultimately—relapse. Doing so is a lifelong project and requires cultivating a whole new way of thinking about life’s travails.

…Long-term emotional sobriety requires the slow, steady rethinking about all the people, places and things that once did—and could again—throw us off kilter.”

I learned about this concept in Al-Anon, and, for me, the difference between surviving and thriving through this transition is emotional sobriety. Please don’t take that to mean I’m practicing emotional sobriety perfectly or even all that well – far from it, in fact. But when I feel the feelings and accept them at face value, I’m miserable. When I let myself believe the vitriolic voices in my head, I’m actually abandoning myself, because I’m letting myself think and act on things that aren’t true. When I feel the feelings and attribute them to their actual causes, not the ones my brain makes up to be mean to me, I’m still incredibly sad, but I can move through the feelings because I know I’ll be waiting for me on the other side. And all that requires mental discipline – it’s my responsibility, when those voices get loud, to say, “You don’t get an opinion,” and then stick to it.

But how do you know which voices are lying and which are telling the truth?

As a person who’s about to get a degree in psychology that she will never use as a clinician, as well as a nutcase, the answer is THERAPY. Lots of therapy. Learning which voices to trust is precisely what the therapeutic process is for. A trained, LICENSED professional gets paid the not-so-big bucks to help you do just that. (Therapy is expensive, but ain’t nobody getting rich being a therapist, psychologist, or even psychiatrist. You can eventually earn a good to excellent living, but, as far as I know, the only ways to get rich in those three fields are being really good at the stock market or writing a bestseller.)

Given the state of mental health in the U.S., it’s unconscionable that therapy isn’t accessible to everyone, but that’s the way it is in a late-stage capitalist hellscape. (Simmer down, I didn’t say it should be free, although that’s not the worst idea, but it should be affordable for everyone. Even with excellent health insurance, I’ve never been to therapy that my co-pay was less than $120 per session.)

If you don’t have access to therapy, groups like Al-Anon are a great resource. They’re not substitutes for therapy, but they’re free, welcoming spaces where you can learn a lot about mental wellness. I’ve grown to hate that word vis-a-vis grifters on TikTok and Instagram trying to sell people vitamins and hundred-dollar alabaster Easter eggs to hide in their vaginas, but what groups like Al-Anon, AA, and NA do is help people who want to live without the sickness of addiction anymore (i.e., they want wellness, but the real kind, not the steam-your-nuts kind).

And so, gentle readers, I shall brave this tempest not by steaming my junk, but by endeavoring to keep the main thing the main thing.

Let’s be careful out there.

P.S. This was absolutely NOT the post I intended to write when I sat down. Sometimes y’all really do get it fresh out of the brain.

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