I
started this year with a chocolate treat hidden in the freezer, Life Saver rolls
in the cubby by my knee, and a mini-Milk Duds box in plain sight on my computer
desk. The Andes Crème de menthe evaporated sometime after an atrocious Trump
act after Valentine’s Day. I needed reinforcement that only chocolate could
provide, snuck a few pieces from the freezer to fortify myself, with the
promise that the remaining pieces would return to frozen safety for another day
of trial. I annihilated them a few days later.
The
Life Saver rolls have survived a little better. One roll, given to my husband
for him to have a treat on his desk, got eaten on a random day when he was
feeling the need for something to crunch. A second roll, shifted to my purse
for a traveling treat, remains untouched. The book contains three other rolls,
also intact. As every day we face new assaults upon our functioning government,
I celebrate that these measures of my mental resistance stay untouched.
My
Milk Duds, a highly visible challenged to my stress eating, sits boldly in
plain view each and every day. I don’t know if I’ll make it through to the end
of the year before some catastrophic intentional action occurs, but I’m giving
it a try.
My
sugar intake, tied directly to my coping strategies, has bumped up a notch this
week with a nightly piece of cheese cake. Other weeks, one bowl of ice cream in
the evening rewards my fortitude for not exploding or imploding.
I
knew dealing with this regime would force me to deal with when, where, and how
much I could spend my time with letters, emails, phone calls and resistance. As
friends and family pound out a daily rejection of MAGA madness, I’ve limited my
intake of news and responses to the chaos. During the first round, my feet
walked miles in protest. This time around, I’m studying the situation
carefully. I spend my hours reading about the psychological matrix of the
believers in hopes of finding a better strategy to deal with their
determination that anything that hurts another person or group proves their
righteousness.
After
reading a long thread on Facebook that spewed anger at every program that
protects the rights of anyone not white, male, and Christian, I saw the
brainwashing that can’t be erased by reasoning. This man, representative of so
many others, believes his way of life is endangered if any one group moves
toward equity or equality. His emotional make-up cannot handle the idea that
rising up another person can do anything to improve his life. He longs to beat
those that he perceives as different into the mud, and standing in victory on
top of a bloody mound. He represents years of entitlement giving him the right
to blow up our democracy because he’d rather see it gone than have to share it
with “others”.
After
reading all of his hate and anger, I know my secret stash won’t be enough to
carry me though this period of people intentionally destroying our economy, rejoicing
in ICE smashing windows and dragging someone out of cars and onto the pavement,
or stripping citizens of rights because they no longer believe in the
Constitution.
Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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