Last weekend, my best friend of 35 years and I took a trip to New York City. She’d never been. And even though we picked the coldest week of the year to visit, we walked so much that we barely felt cold (perhaps because we were so cold that we barely felt anything).
Still, it was the best trip I’ve had in years. We walked more than 15 miles through Manhattan, popping into dives and talking for hours. We saw Wicked on Broadway and caught Jason Isbell at The Beacon. We had dinner at Minetta Tavern, and I had a love affair with a French cream doughnut.
Most significantly, we went to Stonewall Inn and the 9/11 Ground Zero Museum. Both were chilling. I didn’t even try to hold back tears at Ground Zero. My tears fell for the everyday people who lost their lives. They fell for the first responders who rushed in to save those people. They fell for the families that lost their loved ones.
And they fell in deep grief as I realized I was missing the times that our country felt far less divided.
Reader, I find myself growing distant from the world since Trump came into office. I didn’t vote for him, and I don’t like much of what he’s doing to the U.S. since he took the helm. Choosing to ally with Putin is particularly distressing.
But the rage he seems to bring about in us all…that is the most distressing.
I’m obviously no politician. And I don’t claim to know it all. But I know for certain that exactly zero of my good decisions were made when I was mad. If you’re reading this: please remember to breathe and keep your eyes open. I know that rage can make us feel powerful, but it weakens. It’s an unevolved, childish emotion, and it’s exhausting. And we need our energy now more than ever.
If you too are tired of the rage this week, drop me an email, and if I can, I’ll chat about it. Nothing dispels anger quite like being understood. Hang in there, and I’ll see you next Monday. -Em
