5 Little Things to Make a Bad Week Better

Because we have a say

We made through another week, dear ones. By the skin of our teeth, as my mom would say. The past few days felt like a month of Mondays. A bottom-shelf cocktail of grief and rage.

When big things happen in the world, we always have a choice - say something, or don’t. Most times, one is not inherently better than the other. It is not my job to personally weigh in on every headline. That would be a full-time job with overtime. But as a gut-driven woman, I usually know quickly when I have something to say.

I knew what I wanted to say on Tuesday, in the immediate aftermath of two high-profile shootings. And I knew again on Wednesday, after the narrative emerged across Christian spaces that Charlie Kirk was a “martyr” for Christ. What I posted on Wednesday was not public in the same way most of what I share on the internet is. I shared it on my little, personal Facebook page, populated with old high school friends, aunts and cousins, neighbors, and the sort of acquaintances who only know me well enough to wonder where I went wrong.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Political ideologies aside, we can share in the grief of senseless violence (even if it feels selective for so many.) But I am devastated by the number of people I know and love lionizing Kirk, holding him up as an example, "a good and faithful servant," a man with "such a sweet demeanor." (To name a few.) We can grieve a loss of life without rewriting or warping the history.”

I listed some specific examples and said my piece in a measured and, frankly, heartbroken and disoriented tone. And as you can imagine, all Hell broke loose in the comments. I have no regrets, though it hurled me into a long, unhealthy loop of obsessive, consuming doom-scrolling paired with feelings of existential cynicism and broad spectrum dread. I was (and am) disturbed, and disappointed. But we can’t camp out there, exclusively, for very many consecutive hours.

I had a choice to make about how I would spend my time moving forward, even as the chyrons were updated at warp-speed and someone I haven’t spoken to in twenty years vividly described her disappointment in me using every crayon in the box.

In desperation, I hatched a new plan, choosing its facets with intention from the fabric of my actual life. This plan didn’t “solve” anything. But I couldn’t bear another moment of hurling myself directly into the mouth of controversy.

We only get to do each day once.

The Counterweights Plan

Part I

Name the weights. Say them out loud. Write them in a journal. Breathe them into a prayer. I did this above, and in several additional formats. It’s important to not skip this step. We can’t counter what we don’t weigh.

Part II