All I Can Do
I didn't want to write today. I really didn't want to write today because I can't concentrate. I have that feeling in the pit of my stomach that only comes with uncertainty, or I have that feeling in the pit of my stomach that only comes with the inevitably bad. I don't know which one it is, particularly, but of course I do. I woke up and tried to make the best out of a situation I did not want to be in, like I am crawling toward a light that I was just..told is there, but I cannot see it. For me, that comes in the form of making jokes. I tried to find the funny in that Paddington Bear ass Gucci outfit. I tried to find the funny in the big Tiffany gift box. But then, abruptly, I didn't. And I didn't want to write.
I didn't want to write because I didn't know what to say, which is not always a reason not to write. In the times ahead, a lot of us need to learn how to speak out even if we don't know exactly how to say what we're feeling, particularly because it's so easy to not do anything but wallow. Particularly because we need to give breaks to the people who are tirelessly speaking out. Particularly because we need to learn the difference between an appropriate, needed break and a weakening of the spirit.
I want to learn to use my voice as much as I can, without stepping over other voices and while still listening. It's a challenge I have accepted but not mastered. I'm working on it, and now's the absolute best time to work on it.
While I feel sad today, there are so many things that give me faith. Most of them involve you--the people who keep pushing forward, demanding to be heard. The people who push and fight and refuse to give up. I count myself one of those people, but much less equipped to do it, much less confident, and much less fearless. You are who I mirror myself to be. You are who I aspire to be. You are who I learn from the most. I'm just me. I want to speak out, but I'm sort of afraid. I'm trying to channel the strength of you, and others.
Perhaps that's really why I didn't want to write: I'm learning to be better, and to get better at using my voice, but I'm certainly not there yet. I am still at the bottom part of the learning curve, climbing up slowly because I'm scared, and climbing up timidly because I don't want to say anything wrong. Most of the time, I just feel guilty. I don't know if I will march tomorrow because my anxiety really stops me from doing so. I don't know if I've done anything to help at all. I feel like I listen well, but then I don't know how to use the information once I've received it. But hey! Guess what? We don't have time for guilt. I don't have time for guilt. We have to move forward. If I can't do it tomorrow, I will try to do it the day after. The fight doesn't end tomorrow, and I will be a part of it as much as I can.
So today, I am humbled and a little nervous. I am learning. I will donate to Planned Parenthood today, as a start. I will keep listening. And despite my discomfort, I will use my voice to say:
I am here, and I hear you, and we haven't even begun to show you what we all can accomplish.