What Do You Mean, I’m Powerless?

The more I live, the more I do the work, the more I see that there’s just so much change I can affect on my own.

When I started working the 12 Steps of my recovery program, I had to begin at the very beginning.

Step 1: “We admitted we were powerless over our eating disorders— that our lives had become unmanageable.”

When people come into Program, they often have trouble admitting they’re powerless. I was one of those people, even though I had no idea how to make change, how to help myself, how to recover. I slowly came to understand what being powerless is about. I will always need to work Step 1, to be reminded that I can’t recover in a vacuum. We need each other to get well. And we need to be humble.

I thought about writing a fluffier, funnier, more carefree story this week as a balm against how helpless I feel, but I can’t. It would be like making believe everything is okay and pretending that the most consequential event our country has ever experienced isn’t staring us right in the face.

For over a year I’ve been seriously committed to recovery work. One of the things I’ve learned is that my disordered eating is not the only thing I’m powerless over. Far from it. I’m powerless over a multitude of things that I wish I could influence. That’s hard news for a recovering control freak.

SATURDAY November 2

I’m writing this in a state of moderate agitation. I usually publish my weekly essay on Wednesday, but this week I have no idea what shape I’ll be in on November 6, the day after the U.S. Presidential election. Will I need to be scraped off the floor and poured back into the shell of my former self or will you find me doing a happy dance on the roof of my car? In advance observance of what might be a National Day of Mourning for me, and at least half the country; or a wild, raucous, hopeful celebration, I’m publishing a day and a half early. Election Day Eve. None of us know who’ll win, and I imagine I’ll be in a state of heightened anxiety until there’s an answer. What happens next? We’ll see, won’t we?  I’m worried, not just about my future, but the world’s future. That’s how serious all of it feels. Because it is that serious. I’m told futuristic thinking is useless. I know that’s true, but it’s hard to resist in times of fear and stress.

I’ve done all the things I can do towards the outcome. I’ve donated, volunteered, put up lawn signs, had them stolen, and purchased more to put them up again. I registered voters, educated myself, read articles across a broad spectrum of political beliefs and ideas. I’ve tolerated the click-bait pundits for far too long. I’ve ranted and railed about the state of this country. I’ll be on call on Election Day, driving voters to the polls from morning until the very last vote is cast.

I’ve gone around in circles for the last 9 years wondering what kind of person could possibly want to elect and re-elect the Orange Monster––he’s clearly deranged, narcissistic, a con man, a dangerous fascist, and a convicted sexual predator and felon. The thought of him in power again, after all his crimes against this nation and against women, is unfathomable to me.  How can they not see what so many of us see so clearly? If they see it, how can they support it? I will never, ever understand.

I’ve signed petitions, attended Zoom rallies and town halls, donated again, got sick of the pleas for even more money. Started counting how many texts and emails I received imploring me to give again. I’ve gotten upwards of 15-20 asks a day for weeks, not just for the presidential election, but for House races all over the country. Using “STOP” and unsubscribing seems useless. Against my better judgment, but bolstered by my fears, I gave a little more to the Veep and the Gov, and then, out loud, promised my pups (the only live audience I have) and Kamala (in absentia) that this was the “last time I’m giving, stop begging.”

We’ll see if I’m strong enough to keep my word, and not get suckered into giving again because of my anxiety, or I fall into the trap of thinking that if I don’t give again, it will influence the entire result of the election. I’m not that powerful and it seems it’s NEVER enough. I’m offended by the manipulative language in everyone’s fundraising efforts. Does Kamala think I’m an idiot? Does she believe that I’d be flattered by being referred to as one of her biggest donors when my donations have totaled about $93?

Of course, I voted, happily, hopefully, and prayerfully. I had fun waiting in line, enjoying the strangers I chatted with. I’m breathing deeply and making a pledge that I’ll be gentle with myself and others through the end of the election cycle. There is nothing more I can do or say that will change the outcome. 

At this point, all I can do is surrender and acknowledge how powerless I am. When we have the result, I’ll either be ecstatic or bereft. I’m resolved to not fall apart if it doesn’t go the way I’d like. I’ll grieve, I’ll cry, I’ll seek out friends and loved ones so we can comfort each other; I’ll comfort strangers if they need a hug or just to be seen. But I will not let him steal my life or my well-being . That I do have control over. I’m trying to keep a balanced perspective, but I’m stressed. I’m sitting at my desk, writing and eating mini-Snickers and Twix Bars left over from Halloween. I’m giving myself some grace about that. Balance is hard in times like these.

The concept of powerlessness is a hard one for people to accept. What do you mean I’m powerless? Well, we are, mostly. I don’t have the ability to influence world events. I don’t have connections to people in power. I’m a senior citizen (fuck, I’ve never called myself that before), I’m a woman, I’m queer, and I’m Jewish. Not a person in power.

Leading up to the election in 2016, the one I was so sure of, I conducted extensive research about leaving the country for good, in case we lost. I needed to see if leaving was even possible. Any country I’d want to live in requires new citizens to come in with vast resources (money) that I don’t possess now, and probably never will. There was no place to go then, and there still isn’t. I feel too old, and too connected to the life I’ve lived to make a new start. This is my home.

SUNDAY November 3

I woke up earlier than usual. The end of Daylight Savings Time. Today, I’m more anxious than I was yesterday. More frightened, but still grasping for the hope I feel whenever I hear Kamala speak. She sparkles. I love her smile. We have an opportunity to grow as a country, to evolve, to transcend the feelings of hatred, fear, and separation that have gripped so many of us, these last 9 years.

I heard about Kamala’s cameo on SNL. I looked for it online today. It started with the actor who impersonates the Orange Monster (James Austin Johnson). I couldn’t watch. It’s just not funny anymore.

I went for a drive, doing an informal count of how many Kamala lawn signs I’ve seen in my historically conservative neighborhood. Seems there’s been a visible turn to the LEFT. That’s an amazing change for this town. I found that Kamala’s signs far outnumbered the Monster’s. I giggled at the sign that said, “Harris Walz 2024, Obviously” and the one that reads, “Giant Meteor 2024: End It Already.” It calmed me to realize that I still have my sense of humor, even if it has a slightly dark edge at the moment.

I popped in and out of despair and worry all day, and reached out to my sponsor, Joy. She helped me rise out of my gloom. How much more lucky can I be…to have a recovery sponsor named Joy! She told me the SNL opener was wonderful. I shared how I felt about it, and that I couldn’t bear to watch the beginning. She understood and recommended that I hang in or skip ahead to receive the prize.

The more work I do in Program, the more I learn about letting go. I’m up to the part where I’m exploring what having a higher power means. It’s a tough one for me. I used to think that I was in control of so many things. The more I live, the more I do the work, the more I see that there’s just so much change I can affect on my own.

In my heart, I believe I'll be okay no matter what happens. But not as okay as I will be if the right thing happens.

So, on Wednesday, regardless of the result, if you happen to come upon me lying in the gutter, please offer me your hand and help me get up again.

I followed my sponsor’s advice. It’s what one is supposed to do in Program. The SNL skit was wonderful. I laughed and cried all the way through. I got goosebumps. I’m “acting as if” tonight, just like I’ve learned in 12 Step. Right now, to combat my fears, I’m acting as if it’s a done deal, and we have a president-elect named Kamala Harris.

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