The Modern Girl’s Guide to the Political Apocalypse

Photo by Joseph Chan on Unsplash

There’s nothing like a lying, hatemongering billionaire-slash-reality TV star ascending to the American presidency to leave you questioning the relevance of everything you used to value. How can I go back to promoting my new book, writing new fiction? What does any of that matter now?

The media, of course, is already treating this travesty as the new normal. I know I have to call my representatives, sign petitions, attend rallies, volunteer. I need to shoulder up my mantle of privilege and get to work.

But yesterday I hit bottom. Depression stole over me like a carbon monoxide leak, and by the time I realized how low I’d sunk, I couldn’t move myself to act. Not to protest. Not to do anything that might make me feel better — yoga class, a warm square meal. So I rode the bus home in the rain, crawled into bed, and cried.

The catch about writing a self-help book is that if I don’t try my damnedest to follow my own advice, then I’ll have to live with my hypocrisy (and there’s enough of that going around already). There is a chapter in my book called “Be Your Own Mama,” and the crux is this: when you are upset by the injustices and indignities…