8 Tips to Surviving 'HELL: The Sequel'

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

Everyone knows that the sequel is almost always worse than the original.

This newly-released shit show is no exception.

Right now, even the most intellectually-sound, emotionally-grounded, spiritually-steadied, and mentally-stable of human beings among us are looking around asking, “What in the hell is happening here, how much worse can it actually get, and how exactly am I going to survive?”

And seeing as though I am certainly not among the most intellectually-sound, emotionally-grounded, spiritually-steadied, and mentally-stable human beings out there by any measure, I can’t say I can satisfactorily answer any of these questions to great degree.

Hopefully though, some of what I’ve been gleaning from the thousands of wise activists, ministers, caregivers, and good humans I share space and time with across the world can be helpful in you avoiding exhaustion and retaining your sanity:

1. Stop critiquing yourself.
There is no history book, legal document, religious text, or pop song poetry that could have fully prepared us for the collective clusterfuck we’re navigating in real-time right now. Every day we are contending with predatory politicians, toxic systems, corrupt legislation, human rights atrocities, Constitutional crises, Presidential tweet tantrums, leadership failures, and suddenly unrecognizable loved ones—oh yeah, and all while, simultaneously contending with the normal health challenges, family obligations, career responsibilities, relational turbulence, financial struggles, identity issues, and midlife crises that come with being human. All this to say, whatever way you’re managing all of this? It’s probably pretty damn good given the circumstances, so give yourself a break.

2. Ignore the gaslighters.
Tyrants usually don’t kill your body as much as they assail your mind, which is why it’s critical to remind yourself of what you know. You know what you’ve see. You know what you’ve experienced. You know the stories you’ve heard from people who’ve been under duress for a long time. You know you’ve been paying close attention to the slippery slope we’ve been on as a nation. You know you’ve been doing your due diligence to get accurate information and to process it all with sober judgement. Given this, remember you aren’t overreacting, you aren’t hysterical, and you definitely aren’t losing your mind. The road here was paved with millions of people made to believe they were crazy when they were just accurately informed. Refuse to be gaslit by anyone right now—even yourself.

3. Freak out, in moderation.
Trauma resides in our bodies. We know this. We hold pain in our headaches, our clenched jaws, sour stomachs, and our elevated heart rates. The sheer volume and the relentlessness of the threats, the scale and scope of the legislative overreach, and the bottomless depths of our leadership’s brutality is enough to level anyone, no matter how intelligent, mature, or measured they might be (that includes you, friend). Every once in a while, it’s OK to expel that all poisonous pressure from your body in a cathartic, emotional explosion of tears and screams into the pillow. Don’t hurt yourself or someone else and don’t make a habit of it—but from time to time, safely purge the toxins of grief and despair so that you don’t expire before your time.

4. Have sex—or a pastry.
In times when the news is a perpetual parade of terrifying, drawn-out fever dreams come to life, the simple pleasures can save us by tethering us to our humanity. When so much feels (and is) beyond our control and out of our grasp, we have a great deal of agency in how we spend our days. We also have a responsibility not to let our humanity die on the altar of our care for the world. While we fight injustice and resist evil and protest discrimination and oppose systemic ills, it’s essential that we remember to keep living fully, to keep feeling deeply, to pause to savor this fleeting trip on the planet by indulging in music, food, art, nature, and the beauty of being loved. This too, is activism.

5. Keep your friends close (and your enemies way the hell away).
More than ever, you and I need supportive, healthy, strategic community; like-hearted people who encourage and affirm us, who make us better versions of ourselves, and with whom we can go about the work of tearing down what needs tearing down and building what needs building. There is a huge difference between retreating to an echo chamber to avoid opposing ideas or confirm bias—and strategically withdrawing from people whose elemental values do not align with ours, as acts of self-preservation or as a declaration of our priorities. Let this turbulent time be about clarifying who you want in close proximity and who you need distance from.

6. Give fear the middle finger.
Fascists thrive on terrorism. It is the engine their entire aspirations run on. The playbook is time-tested and predictable: bombard their targets with an unceasing barrage of emergencies, both real and manufactured. Deliberately create chaos and incite disarray, and in the resulting disorientation and noise, take away the elemental freedoms and disable all safeguards that they’d otherwise have taken notice of. No one is at their best when they’re afraid. So, yes, while it’s understandable to assess threats, to recognize dangers, to grieve barbarism—you and I cannot, under any circumstances, consent to the fear-mongers. So stare those bastards directly in the eye, raise a strident finger, and flat-out refuse to be afraid.

7. Honor your anger.
Many people will tell you that you shouldn’t be as angry as you are lately. I am not one of those people. I actually want you to honor your anger. Anger (at least initially) is an almost involuntary response; it’s an emotional alarm telling you something is not right. And if you’re a person with working empathy and you’re at all paying attention right now—you know there’s a lot that isn’t right. All movements of justice, positive change, and civil and human rights progress were birthed by good people’s productive pissed-offness. So, we want don’t want to avoid anger, we just want to make sure that we transform that first emotional prompt into something else: something positive, something helpful, something tangible. That way, we don’t allow that outrage to become toxic within us.

8. Stay f*ckin’ joyful.
The people right now who are creating such havoc and doing so much damage are compelled to these measures because they are deeply, profoundly, and almost irreparably miserable. The world in their heads is composed almost entirely of enemies and adversaries—and as a result they are perpetually at war with the world. As disheartening as it is to witness people this inherently joyless, it's a cautionary reminder of who we do not want to become, of what we can't let the fight do to us. The most offensive weapon you and I have in the days we find ourselves in is our positivity and our refusal to become nihilistic. May we who oppose the cruelty on display, never become so devoid of lightness that we resemble those who celebrate that cruelty. Misery really does loves company, friends. Refuse to join it by holding on to your joy with all you’ve got.

Yeah, eight’s a weird number for a list, but if I expanded to a more traditional ten, I’d be sacrificing time to actually practice the other eight, so for the name of congruence I’m gonna be OK with that.

The bottom line is this: yeah, this iteration of America is all kinds of hell, but we don’t have to be consumed by it.

What am I missing? Share in the comments a tip for surviving this terrible sequel.