I Am One Person

What Can I Do?

My kid’s school, like hundreds of schools across Ohio, closed for two straight days due to dangerous cold. In a big change from when he was little, snow days mean something else to us now. We can enjoy them, with hot chocolate and in sweatpants. He lets me work, catches up on homework (and video games), and we both get to sleep in past 6 a.m. for once. I joked to a friend, I wouldn’t mind if school was closed forever.

Careful, she said, 2025 is listening.

2025 is listening, and so far the new year has screamed with disaster, heartache, loss, and fear. My birthday is in January. I don’t think I’ve ever hated my birthday month more. In the face of such national and global crises, spiking every day, what can I do? What can any of us?

I think it’s very difficult that the dominant advice for surviving this time is to check out of it, to ignore it. That’s actually impossible for the millions of us who work in journalism, government, health, justice, education, or any number of fields, or who have any number of lives which are in danger.

Some of us can’t post our opinions on social media because we might lose our jobs. Some of us can’t leave social media because it’s part of our job descriptions. Checking out is a privilege.

But dipping in and out as my job and identity as a vulnerable person and parent allows—I can do that. And you might too.

Make an appointment to check in on the news, your emotions, your efforts, and then check out.

Check Out in Small Doses

Because I live alone with my kid and work from home, I usually listen to public radio all day. I like the company and I need to stay informed for my work. But I can’t listen to that right now. I will always love—and support, because you don’t have to be actively listening to be supporting—news radio, but I can’t do that 24/7 at the moment. When I’m off work, I’m no longer listening to work.

So last Tuesday, instead of my morning news fix, I listened to a crime podcast. It was, as they are, oddly relaxing. At least this emergency wasn’t presently mine.

I’m less interested in your outrage and more interested in your joy.

I’ve also become enamoured with ambient videos on Youtube, which I keep on in the background while I write. Yes, I listen to a fireplace crackling on a screen while I have an actual fireplace downstairs. One of my favorite ambient videos is the sounds of the Bodleian Library at Oxford. It helps me feel less alone—and like I’m somewhere else.

I’ve muted friends who keep re-sharing the same horrible news. I work in news. I don’t need to hear it again from someone I went to high school with. I’m also less interested in your outrage and more interested in your other emotions, like joy. How are you keeping happy? How are you keeping safe? What art are you making? What changes?

Make Small Changes

In any emergency, donating money is the most helpful option, but that isn’t always possible. And even small changes make a big difference, both in how you’re helping and how you’re setting an example for others who may be watching or listening. Tip well when you order goods or services. Think about where you’re spending your money.

At home, consider using washable, reusable paper towels and cloth napkins—a habit my household got into at the start of the pandemic when paper towels (which are a problem for the Earth) weren’t available. Laundry detergent strips instead of the big plastic jugs (which often aren’t recycled) are more eco-friendly and economical and work just as well.

Photo by Grace Madeline on Unsplash

As another pandemic is not unlikely in the next few years, even while the other one isn’t over, now’s a good time to stock up on certain emergency items: shelf-stable milk, egg replacement (which can be flaxseed stored in your pantry), masks. We need you and we need you healthy and rested. I haven’t had any alcohol this year, and I’m starting to think I might never again. That’s a choice I’m making, but maybe there are choices you can make that feel right for you in this moment and might help you down the line.

Keep making art. Keep sharing it. If you didn’t make art before, now is the time! They don’t want you to survive, let alone thrive as much as possible. You weren’t put on this earth to consume, to take and passively accept things, so start changing and making them better however you can.

A Floating Spell

I recently shared this with my sister, and she loved it so maybe you might too. In the depths of my Long COVID, one of the activities that helped me feel better was … floating.

I signed up for a membership with a place that has sensory deprivation tanks. Yes, like in Stranger Things or Fringe. But they aren’t really tanks at all—not metal bins with lids—but little, private swimming pools with so much salt in them, you just float. You float and let your mind wander.

As a creative person, it’s very helpful for me to think of ideas, work out plot points. But everyone needs to dream, to just be.

This isn’t something that’s offered everywhere; unfortunately Ohio hasn’t caught on as well and as quickly as Denver, Colorado, for example. I know water in general is helpful for anxiety, so if there’s not a float place near you, maybe try a pool, even a bath. But here’s the spell: you just float. You don’t even have to keep swimming. Just keep floating.