Slow down

Dealing with MAGA is not for sissies

I am a huge fan of the middle ground. Shades of gray. Both/and. Ambiguity. Until it visits my life. The middle ground I’m searching for now is to mount a full-throated resistance, even though I may not live to see it all work out. Handling uncertainty works for me as long as I get to see how the issue resolves (usually as I predict).

I’m too old for a constitutional crisis that has lasted a decade. I’m all for handing the baton to the next generation. Until I get to the part where I have to let go of the baton. This must be what it’s like to be a control freak who knows they need to lighten the hell up, but doesn’t yet know HOW.

I’ve got that baton in a death grip, more out of fear of dropping it than anything to do with my confidence in the next runner. I know that if I release the baton, the team might lose. If I fail to release the baton, the team will definitely lose. I’ll be out of my comfort zone either way. I know that being part of a relay team means trusting the other runners to do their best. I have to get better at holding the baton AND letting it go.

I have to stay in the resistance, not because we won’t get there without me. It’s because I can’t live with myself if I’m not part of the solution. I’m making peace with the knowledge that nothing I do, in and of myself, will restore democracy. Nor will the other resisters succeed or fail because of anything I do personally. My participation, however, is mandatory.

That is the landscape of both/and. I am powerful, and I am helpless. I am strong, and I am scared. Being here requires me to learn not to react to anything until I have time to feel the impact, recognize the feelings coming up, and choose to act or stand back based on a realistic assessment of which response is more constructive.

In other words, I’m teaching myself to slow down.

Many of my initial reactions to things are automatic and in self-defense. When I lost my parents as a young adult and found myself alone, I figured that I’d better toughen my hide or find a good mask if I wanted to survive. I knew I wasn’t ready for the world on the world’s terms, but I had to live in the world all the same.

With a rhino’s hide and mask in place, I became opaque. No matter how jaw-dropping the incident, my face stayed in place, and my words were measured and calm. You wouldn’t know how I felt unless you asked (then waited a few decades for a complete response).

This is both a bug and a feature. For example, I am usually great in a crisis. Also, as a therapist, it was impossible to shock me, so clients felt safer. But I may have taken the whole thing too far. Now I’m trying to soften up and be more spontaneously transparent.

You probably know about the three reflexive reactions to perceived threat: fight, flight, or freeze. I added a fourth one: jujitsu. I can be a maestro at keeping someone off balance. On one hand, I wanted to develop the skill of empathy. On the other hand, I wanted to be able to confound and flatten anyone who got closer than I felt safe.

I mastered both, but the two skills work like a slot machine: you never know which one you’re going to get. With MAGA people, they often get both in a crazy-making way that begins with showing empathy and ends with taking a blowtorch to their eyebrows. I’ve known all along that arguing with them won’t change anything. Still, I don’t enjoy the feelings that arise when my reflex is to do combat.

Neutrality and kindness for beginners

My jujitsu defenses come on lightning-fast. I can’t fault them. They got me through an entire career and adulthood. I made it safely through a whole life. Now I find myself in some mental form of occupational therapy as I learn to slow down. Not my legs — they’re plenty slow already. I need to slow down my mind and nervous system.

Take one full breath, in and out, before reacting to anything. Practice equanimity by getting into a “don’t know” stance whenever I come face to face with a MAGA follower. That’s the step where I often jerk back because it’s truly frightening to me to converse with a Trump supporter and wear less than my full armor.

It turns out that the “slow down” strategy involves feeling out of my depth and showing myself compassion. Only then can I allow myself to feel my vulnerability and, often, outright fear. Then, only then, can I know what to do.

Insider tip: if you feel rushed to respond, ask yourself if someone is pushing you or if you reflexively assume you shouldn’t take up the space it requires.

There’s a certain twinge of sadistic joy in unleashing my vocabulary full force in their face, but it’s stopped being useful for me. Once I disgorge all my contempt and rage at a Trump follower, I’m left with what’s at the bottom: these people scare me. In my heart of hearts, I truly want to be kind as a default — not defensive. But kind in a reality-based way, rather than a faux-pity way. I needn’t forget how to keep myself safe. I simply need to slow down and let go of all performative toughness.

(…she says as if that were easy…)

So what fresh hell is this?

I’m watching Donald Trump destroy everything he touches. I’m watching him replace national treasures with reflections of himself, each thing more vulgar than the last.

I’m watching his supporters — be they citizen or Congress critter — talk as if they believe Donald Trump when he bleats out his usual bile about elections being rigged. I feel the anger rise when I hear our Speaker of the House tell journalists that California’s voting process really is rigged. Surely he knows that it isn’t. I’m watching our governor’s race and see so many people following MAGA that Trump’s candidate actually made it to the runoff. I feel threatened by the sheer number of MAGA supporters who are too close to my house.

Feeling the anger is the easy part. Sticking around to feel the hurt, betrayal, and fear beneath it is a tough ride. Take a breath…

Song of the Day

“Slow Down” — The Beatles

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