I can’t lie; I’ve been down. It’s not the bad news that is getting me down though; it’s the sinking realization that the people we rely on are more unreliable than I could have ever imagined, that they not only have the inability to rise to the occasion, but the unwillingness.
It’s hard not to wallow, but I try not to, especially here. But it’s dishonest for me to pretend I’m full of inspiratioin and deep thoughts and imagination all the time. Sometimes I’m full of fury and despair.
It’s hard to believe it’s not sheer malice. Even when it would be in their own best interest - to get this virus under control and make sure working people don’t lose everything all at one time - they are unwilling to do the right thing.
It’s hard not to drive up to the White House and slap our leaders, and scream in their faces: “you cannot mitigate the economic damage without mitigating the virus!” I say it’s hard not to do that, but logistically it’s probably harder to actually accomplish that…
It’s hard to explain this callous refusal to address the problem, unless you consider that they might want people to die. It’s hard to get that thought out of my head. Their behavior only makes sense through that lens. Oppressed minorities in this country are familiar with that feeling; I’m feeling it now.
It’s hard to give them the benefit of the doubt when they fire experts and refuse to hire them. It’s hard to have faith in their intentions when they throw crumbs to the masses and pour riches on their friends.
It’s hard to love America when a loud minority of people are openly and actively advocating for people to die; it’s even harder to love America when you see that the powerful have manipulated those people to do that in pursuit of profit.
It’s hard to believe I still hadn’t reached my limit on disappointment.
When I feel like this, I find my only solace is sometimes to just drift away. Today, I thought Jean-Paul, who has crossed the Rainbow Bridge, could inspire us to try to take some deep breaths and imagine something more beautiful. Jean-Paul’s mama thinks of him when she sees butterflies. Now I will too.
I painted him about a month ago, and I can barely remember it. It’s like a fever dream. It was the first art I completed under quarantine. I left him on the porch to be picked up, and waved to the client from inside my house. In the last couple days before the painting was to be delivered, I made a point not to touch it with my bare hands. I cannot begin to explain to you how hard that was.
I hope you are all finding something to preoccupy you when you go to dark places; I’m still looking for my magic distraction. Today I feel the need to ground myself in gratefulness: I have my health, my husband, a roof over my head, food in my refrigerator, and for the love of god I have the internet. I also have the privilege of being able to stay home in this scary world.
If you have the privilege to keep observing social distancing, please keep doing it. Do it for the vulnerable, and do it for those who will have no choice.