I am deeply anxious and because it is rational to be this anxious, I don't know what to do about it. I can't control the pandemic. I can't stop the secret police. I can't prevent the coming wave of evictions, foreclosures, homeslessness and unemployment. I can't protect the polls, the protesters, the people in need. I cannot make anyone who could protect them listen to my voice; I can't make them act.

I call. I write. Although I haven't marched in months, I donate to BLMChicago, Good Kids Mad City, Assata's Daughters. Chicago Service Relief, the Greater Chicago Food Depository. The National Women's Law Center, Planned Parenthood, Medical Students for Choice. The Working Families Party. The Justice Democats. The Hispanic Federation. Other places, when they have a specific call out to meet a need.

I remain anxious. I know what I do is not actually meeting a need or saving a society in collapse. 

I am deeply anxious and because it is rational to be this anxious, I don't know what to do about it. My tricks for naming and defending against disordered anxiety don't work. 

We walk to the park and I am anxious. I try not to mutter. I try not to panic. My voice raises and Spouse asks why I'm angry. But I'm not angry; I'm anxious and I don't know what to do.


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