26: Sustainable advocacy & self-care
Checking in with yourself, balancing in and out, and advocating for others
Before you read this installment, please read last week’s post: “In solidarity.” Anna so succinctly spoke for the both of us in last week’s post, putting words to what it is to try to navigate taking up space online during such continually heartbreaking and unjust times. In re-sharing the resources Anna supplied at the beginning of her newsletter here, I urge you to join us in donating if you are able:
GiveIndia Cash Relief to give money to families who have lost someone to COVID-19
Provide food, clothes, and necessities to Palestinians in Gaza
Little has changed since last week in terms of progress regarding the suffering of people in Colombia, India, and Palestine. As such, I suppose it’s unsurprising that it’s my turn to be conflicted about what to write—or even whether to write. It feels strange to dedicate time to other unrelated, seemingly petty issues when so much genuine pain and loss is reverberating throughout the world. Instead, I’m doing my best to bear witness and use whatever platform I have to ask others to do the same: amplify the voices of those affected (and/or those genuinely advocating for them) and financially support any communities you can. Most importantly, don’t allow yourself to ignore or become desensitized to the needless suffering of others. Keep paying attention.
In the meantime, I think it’s more important than ever to ensure you’re taking care of yourself. Two weeks ago, I discussed the collective experience of languishing: a side effect of living through the intense upheaval of the pandemic that has deadened our sense of psychological wellbeing and left us feeling stagnant and empty. On top of this sensation, the past two years of intense international sociopolitical upheaval have rightfully asked us to be more aware of the ways in which communities both far from and close to home are suffering—and to take action in solidarity as a result. This requires sustained advocacy and engagement with difficult issues, and we can’t excuse ourselves from our responsibility to step up for those who cannot by claiming burnout.
Communities in Colombia, India, and Palestine (as well as those in the diaspora) don’t have the opportunity to disengage from the realities of their suffering. Those of us who are not directly affected can and should push back against the ease of insulating ourselves, staying silent, and turning a blind eye. We can acknowledge that the aforementioned sustained advocacy and engagement with difficult issues may take up more of our emotional bandwidth (especially in the context of the pandemic), but imagine how much less bandwidth we would have if we were members of these communities? As such, I have been thinking about ways we can better care for ourselves in order to prepare for sustainable advocacy as well as achieve an overall sense of improved wellbeing. And if you are a member of one of the many communities that have been so adversely affected these past two years, I hope you know that you are especially deserving of care. Please take care of yourself.
The concept of mind-body peace has become old hat for so many of us. If you are able to find a sense of balance both mentally and physically, you’re said to be good to go. I don’t disagree with this, and I’ve written about how I felt especially close to achieving something close to this last year when I was consistently running throughout quarantimes. Moving my body in ways that brought me joy was so effective in clearing out the stagnancy that had settled in my head—it was the closest I’d felt to clarity in a long while. But since starting a full-time job, hunkering down throughout much of the Minnesota winter, and slowly muddling through the move to a new apartment, I haven’t been able to sustain that sense of wellbeing.
What’s been helping me recently is to focus in on the importance of both inside and outside in all relation to us as people. I mean that in terms of the mind (internal) and body (external) as well as physical spaces: indoors and outdoors. In my previous newsletter, I discussed the ways in which my unfinished, disorganized mid-move apartment seemed to echo how cluttered my mind felt. The messiness of my living space made my mental space feel like just as much of a mess. After making a large amount of headway with furnishing and decorating my apartment, the positive impact of creating a comfortable and functional indoor space for yourself has never been clearer. I wake up contented and calm, feel inclined to put in work to maintain the space, and enjoy the endless opportunities to consider how I can make the space feel even more like home. But even though I can feel myself working back to a sense of mental wellness through refining my interior space, I’m not fully there—I’ve put an emphasis on inside, not outside.
Underlying my reflection on my lack of mental wellbeing was the need to engage with the outside, both in terms of my body and the outdoors. I had even subconsciously pointed at this issue, writing, “I was just spending boatloads of time inside, from the workday to my evenings, overwhelmed figuratively and literally by boxes and dysfunctional appliances or furniture.” I originally thought the issue was just that my living space and headspace were cluttered, but I wasn’t balancing myself out with time spent moving my body and interacting with the outside world either—things that surely contributed to the sense of stagnancy I was feeling. I was so busy with working from home and so focused on how subpar my interior spaces (both mental and physical) felt that I forgot how necessary it was to consistently give myself a break from interiority and get out. Out of my head, out of my apartment.
Since writing “Apartment ahaha f*ck,” I have taken literal steps toward finding external balance as well. I’ve slowly started running again, working my way up from lapping Lake Harriet (2.75 miles) to Bde Maka Ska (3.1 miles—back to 5k, baby!). I’m definitely not in the same shape or as consistent as I was last spring/summer, but just getting out there, clearing my mind, and showing myself that I’ve still got it in me has made me feel leaps and bounds better—both physically and mentally. Beyond that, just taking up space in the ever-changing outdoors has been so refreshing. I am aware that I’m incredibly lucky to live so close to three beautiful lakes and countless parks, so I’m going to do my best to take advantage of that fact. In the words of Barbara Kingsolver, “It seems very safe to me to be surrounded by green growing things and water.” I can’t let the opportunity to access nature while still living in a city—and better myself in the process!—pass me by. As such, I’m placing an emphasis on spending time outside with myself and with the people I care about.
I just bought a hammock for the first time, and I actually wrote the majority of this piece while lounging between two trees after work, a girl training her dog to play fetch and a group of masked boy scouts playing tag in the park below. It felt so good to separate myself from my work-from-home space, and I found that I was more productive in my new outdoor space. The previously mentioned distractions were welcome variations to my routine, and I felt much more present while writing due to the change of pace. I was less inclined to fall into the cycle of doomscrolling on my phone and punishing myself for doing so after the fact. Instead, taking breaks to pay attention to the outside world refreshed me, making the writing go that much faster. And, most importantly, I felt genuinely happy to be outside, to be writing—to be. Checking in with myself after and determining that I needed to take a walk to the park and take in some sunlight after a long day gave me the motivation to write. That small adjustment in my routine to promote balance made all the difference in the world. And these check-ins help me find ways to more fully embrace the days where I don’t need to be productive as well.
The other day, I was at the tail end of an amazing weekend featuring a friend’s birthday celebration, a reunion with all four of my best friends since childhood, my first forays back into rooftop and indoor dining since being vaccinated, celebrating my boyfriend’s professional achievements, time spent by the lakes, and surprising Anna with a very beloved visitor. After all that joy, I woke up on Sunday exhausted, and I seemed hellbent on spending the day on my phone—a surefire sign of me ignoring what I actually needed. I let myself vegetate for a while, and then I ran through my options. Did I want to be indoors or outdoors? Did I want to focus on bettering my body or mind? I settled on the fact that I wanted to be indoors after a weekend on the go, and I didn’t want to engage physically or mentally much at all. I decided my one productive activity would be listening to murder podcasts while I vacuumed and washed all of the floors in my apartment. I moved around a bit, made my living space more livable, and improved my mental state as a result. I then felt free to allow myself to vegetate guilt-free in more stimulating ways than staring at my phone. I went to bed contented and woke up refreshed because I actually gave myself what I needed instead of just biding my time, hoping I’d feel better eventually.
Maybe it’s a bit obvious to seek balance by moving beyond the typical notion of mind-body peace and incorporating meaningful engagement with indoor and outdoor physical spaces. I’m aware those of you in healthier headspaces may be thinking something akin to “no sh*t” while reading this piece… :’) But if you also feel like you’ve been languishing as of late, this simple concept might feel just as revelatory for you as it has for me. I just think we can get so caught up in one area of our lives we perceive as going wrong that it’s easy to neglect other parts that need just as much attention. For me, breaking down my needs into matters concerning both inside and outside has simplified the process of checking in with myself and better determining what it is that I need. Maybe you’ll feel similarly if you give it a go.
A significant byproduct of taking better care of myself has been my increased capacity for paying attention to and pushing back against the injustices being committed against communities around the world. If you’re currently struggling, I hope it can do the same for you. Again, we have the responsibility to educate ourselves, amplify the voices of those affected, sustain our efforts toward advocacy, and continually engage with the reality of so many incredibly difficult situations. We have the responsibility to step up for those who do not have the opportunity to disengage—who do not have the opportunity to take care of themselves as they live through so much pain and upheaval. I hope you’ll join me this week in donating, in asking your political representatives to take action, in using whatever platforms you have to uplift the voices of those directly affected, and in paying attention and staying informed. Let’s take care of ourselves, and then let’s ensure we’re stepping outside of ourselves to take care of others.
“Águas de Março” by Elis Regina and Antônio Carlos Jobim, considered by many to be one of the best Brazilian songs of all time. Listening to bossa nova has made me feel so calm and contented as of late—especially this song. You can literally hear the smile in Elis Regina’s beautiful voice as the song progresses, and the duo ends the song in a sense of joyous, cathartic vocal release. You can’t help but feel just as joyous when you listen. When this song came on as I was writing this newsletter, I had to stop what I was doing, lay back in my hammock, and stare up, smiling, at the sunlight coming in through the trees.
The House on the Rock. My boyfriend and I came across this Wisconsin gem on TikTok, of all places, and were so intrigued that we decided to make a pilgrimage on a whim. We drove out to Spring Green and were not disappointed. The house started out as a pet project of a rich recluse who wanted to build an architecturally interesting and eclectically decorated home by hand on top of a cliff overlooking the Driftless. Then, his interests devolved to collecting warehouses full of cultural artifacts—from expensive things like Tiffany stained glass to endless quantities of seemingly meaningless tchotchkes—and creating huge dioramas, imitation towns, and (reportedly) the largest carousel of all time. It was genuinely the most insane place I’ve ever been in my life. It took us about three hours to tour his entire collection, and though we felt like we were descending into madness every minute, we would recommend it to anyone.
“A Light Left On” by May Sarton. I came across this poem thanks to @poetryisnotaluxury on Instagram (I’ve waxed poetic about this account in the past—highly recommend!). It distills a sense of contentedness in life and love and place that I am starting to feel in my own little yellow apartment and the people I’ve been lucky enough to share it with.
