In a word, yes.

If you weren’t raised as a Jew, you have no standing to speak on this. As a Jew, I decide what is, and is not, antisemitic, just as POC will decide what is, and is not racism.

If you weren’t raised as a Jew, how dare you think you can be an arbiter of what is antisemitic? Notice that when a black person deems something/someone racist,  he/she is taken seriously, and his/her view is respected…at least by the progressive left.

But Jews everywhere, since October 7, are being gaslighted constantly with indignant cries of I’m not antisemitic, it’s Israel’s government that I can’t tolerant.

As we all should know, Israel is far from being the worst country for human rights.

Moving on to global humanitarian crises, DR Congo is the largest hunger emergency in the world, with over 25 million people struggling daily to simply get enough to eat.

The country hosts one of the largest displaced populations (including refugees) in the world – approximately 5.5 million. One in seven women nationwide experienced sexual violence before the age of 18, and the problem is even more severe in conflict-affected communities. However, in 2022, the number of people in need in DRC was significantly higher than the amount of people in need in Ukraine, yet the amount of funding secured was 74% lower.

Have you heard any demands to stop the violent conflicts there? The country is experiencing outbreaks of monkey pox, cholera, measles, floods and landslides.

And in Sudan? Seven months of conflict there have resulted in 9,000 deaths and 5.6 million forced to flee their homes. Where are progressives wearing the Jalabia in protest?

I bet none of your friends are going around enraged on behalf of the Congolese or Sudanese. Because the only people who matter are Palestinians, and their plight is the only one worth marching for. If Jews aren’t involved, no one cares.

Look at the map above. Note the size of Israel. Note that it’s surrounded by countries with lamentable human rights, countries where women are second class citizens and gays are at risk of prison and death. Teeny tiny Israel is the focus of the worlds dismay and disapproval….why?? Is it “because our taxes prop up their apartheid government”? The taxes argument is absurd. The US gives foreign aid to countries all over the world, some with governments that progressives surely wouldn’t want to support.

(Ukraine was the top recipient of aid in 2022, having received nearly $12 billion from the U.S. that year following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022.)

If you want to know the history of Israel, it’s easy to research. Historians and archaeologists agree that a Kingdom of Israel existed by ca. 900 BCE and that a Kingdom of Judah existed by ca. 700 BCE.  The Jews have been deported from their ancestral homeland by various empires, thousands of years before Palestine was invented by the British division of land formerly governed by the Ottoman Empire.

Let’s get back to now. “The Hamas attack resembled a medieval Mongol raid for slaughter and human trophies—except it was recorded in real time and published to social media. Yet since October 7, Western academics, students, artists, and activists have denied, excused, or even celebrated the murders by a terrorist sect that proclaims an anti-Jewish genocidal program. Some of this is happening out in the open, some behind the masks of humanitarianism and justice, and some in code, most famously “from the river to the sea,” a chilling phrase that implicitly endorses the killing or deportation of the 9 million Israelis. The decolonization narrative has dehumanized Israelis to the extent that otherwise rational people excuse, deny, or support barbarity. It holds that Israel is an “imperialist-colonialist” force, that Israelis are “settler-colonialists,” and that Palestinians have a right to eliminate their oppressors.” *

Progressives have fallen to this fiction like they once fell for Stalin and Hitler. But their beloved Palestinians had every chance to build a thriving state instead of voting to be ruled by Hamas. Jews worked hard and created Israel out of a desert. Palestinians could have done the same if they weren’t so focused on killing Jews. (White savior complex much?)

What about the charge that Zionism is racism?

Prior to 1948, Zionism was an aspiration—the national liberation movement of the Jewish people, founded by Theodore Herzl in the late 19th century, to re-establish a Jewish nation as a solution to the antisemitism Jews faced in Europe. After 1948 until today, Zionism became a reality: a homeland not only to persecuted European Jews, but Jews from all over the globe, including Jews fleeing persecution from the Soviet Union, the Arab world, Turkey, Iran, and Ethiopia, amongst others. Israel is one of the most diverse countries in the world with over half of its population being from Africa, India, and other areas of the Middle East. The vast majority of Jews around the world identify as Zionists, meaning they support the existence of Israel as a Jewish State in the historic Land of Israel.

Antisemitism has existed now for millennia, and the prevailing ideas about Jews running everything, about how “good” they have it, is just as stupid as the Elders of Zion.

As the saying goes, “Germany will never forgive the Jews for the Holocaust.” Jews are despised for being weak, and also when they fight back. Jews are somehow responsible for everything bad. Why? The term “Jew” at various times in history has been connected to both materialism and intellectualism, socialism and capitalism, worldly cosmopolitanism and clannish parochialism, eternal chosenness and unending accursedness.

Even the UN is rife with antisemitism. So is the Red Cross.

In closing, you intellectuals arguing about whether Jewish babies were actually beheaded or just burned alive need to get a fucking grip.

Jews are the indigenous people of Israel, their ancestral homeland. Deal with it. War isn’t genocide or ethnic cleansing. And apartheid does not apply to the state of Israel, as much as you love the word.

L’chaim for now.

A thread on Facebook caught my attention last week. It was on a neighborhood page, where the Discourse is usually confined to incensed complaints about the homeless and reports of lost cats. This one was posted by an administrator and titled “Ask an atheist.” It was an invitation for questions, and the thread was, miraculously for fb, respectful.

One guy posited that atheism was itself a form of religion. This was so silly that I jumped in to ask how an absence of belief could be deemed a form of belief.

I learned that there is “hard” atheism and “soft” atheism, and I learned a fun new word: Ignosticism. This is the idea that the question of the existence of God is meaningless because the word “God” has no coherent and unambiguous definition. That sounds kind of petulant and argumentative, doesn’t it?

I’ve always considered myself an atheist but now I realize that I’m more of an apatheist.

Apatheism considers the question of the existence or nonexistence of deities to be fundamentally irrelevant in every way that matters.

I know that “god” doesn’t exist but I don’t care either way. Let god believe in me, if he/she wants. The whole idea is stupid but others are welcome to it as long as they don’t tell me to have a blessed day. I must say that the stupidest form of religion is the one whose adherents say, following a terrible personal tragedy, that their faith in god helped them through it. The fact that god didn’t prevent the tragedy in the first place doesn’t seem to bother them.

You probably know that in most societies, women are more religious than men, but have you wondered why? There is no scholarly consensus on this. There is the theory that this gender gap in religiosity is caused by differences in risk preference between men and women. Risk preference theory argues that irreligiousness is a form of risk taking because irreligiousness risks eternal punishment such as going to hell. Because women tend to be more risk averse than men, they are more religious.

Another argument is that women are more likely to be sanctioned for nonconforming behaviors than men; thus, choosing to be nonreligious is more socially risky for women. To avoid stigma or social sanctioning, women tend to choose to be religious. I like this one. It blames the patriarchy, and why not?

But wait! Among Jews and Muslims, men are more religious than women. In these religions, men are required to attend public religious services while women are not. So again, blame the patriarchy (or maybe thank the patriarchy.)

As an apatheistic Jew, I admit that Christians who are super vocal about their religion tend to either annoy me or perversely amuse me. I have kind of an alter ego who I call the Hissing S lady, who is very Southern and very Christian. When I do this character, it’s hard for me to stop. Luckily, my husband doesn’t mind her. You can enjoy her here.

*For extra credit, go see a category of Renaissance art that depicts Jesus with an erection.

It’s hard to make new friends when you’re old, and even harder when you’re morose, needy, and opinionated. I’ve lived in my “new” community for 7 years and have made one friend, but she’s very busy with work and family. I’m not an extrovert by any means, but I do crave companionship, so much so that new people usually hasten to escape my orbit.

When I first moved here I had high hopes for meeting people. A friend of a friend was dating a woman called M, who was smart, well-read, and “fun” when she was drinking. Soon after we met, she invited me to sit on her lap, and I did! Why not? She was amusing, pretty, and I was drinking too.

M befriended me and introduced me to her teen daughters. She reported that the girls thought I was So Cool, and she hoped I would spend some time with them. I grew close to the older girl, a gorgeous high school student who thought she was ugly and had been dumped on the ride home from prom by a boy who texted her while his dad drove.

M started to ghost me but I tried not to notice. Her boyfriend revealed that M no longer wanted to be friends because I didn’t believe in god. That was a new one! I couldn’t take this seriously, since M wasn’t religious. Finally, I confronted her by text, and she said I was “too sad.” Interestingly, she had been drawn to my sadness at first. But now I was too sad for a woman who never, ever stopped ranting about her daughter had been raped ” in the face.”

I was so hurt that I considered getting a license plate reading 2SAD4U. Actually, I’d still like to have that but I’m too lazy to begin the process.  2LAZ4U would be even better.

Later, I met L, who was daffy but fun, and we shared some obscure enthusiasms, like Mexican Wedding Earrings and silk pj’s. I sent her a photo of my dresser, and she sent me one of her dresser. They were nearly identical!

But every time I asked her if she wanted to get together, L was doing something else. After at least 5 efforts, I gave up. Was I too sad or too lazy? Or was I too much like her? Oh well.

Not long ago, I met V at the supermarket. She screamed, “Your hair is so beautiful!” and I turned around ready to marry her. She continued to shower me with compliments, and I returned each one. She had nice hair, she was really pretty, good style, etc. We stood and talked about all kinds of things including her violent father and her favorite Maybelline mascara. I gave her my phone number and told her I would love to hang out or go to Sephora together. When I texted her, she blew me off.

Then, at Nordstrom, I met a lady my age who had just moved here from Chicago after a divorce. We talked about our kids and, at great length, about our wrinkly necks and the many methods that won’t help despite costing thousands of dollars. We exchanged phone numbers. When I texted her, she said she would love to get together after she “got settled in.” That was months ago.

M, L, and V could be reasonably described as crazy, but that was hardly a deal-breaker for me.

Last night in desperation I went to the park for a Menorah lighting thing, even though I’m an atheist who doesn’t practice Judaism. I figured there was a chance of meeting someone local who might be friend material. After talking to a few people, I learned that I have a strong aversion to yellow teeth. Then, miraculously, I met a nice woman with a nose ring and a cute baby. She was smart, warm, and exhibited no craziness. We exchanged phone numbers but I think by the end she just felt sorry for me.

My husband came to walk me home from the park, and I expressed my deep sympathy for the small gathering of Jews, which perplexed him. I explained that I was touched by their willingness to come out on a cold night to embrace their religious traditions, even though everyone has hated them for three thousand years.  They aren’t giving up, just like me trying to find friends.

Meanwhile, an actual close friend won’t return my calls and I’m getting nervous. I hope it’s nothing to do with god or sadness. I might try her again later.

L’chaim!

If you watched the memorial today for the 400,000 Americans killed by Covid-19, symbolized by two long columns of light, you must have cried like I did. All the people on MSNBC cried too, either sniffling or sobbing, all grateful for this impetus to pour out their grief after holding back for so long. For four whole years, actually.

I thought about Joe Biden’s son, about my son, about Jamie Raskin’s son, Melissa Ethridge’s son, Stephanie Seymour’s son, Stella Tennant’s children, all the unknown families who wonder how they will go on.

The only ray of light is the knowledge that Trump will be back in Florida, unable to torture us the way he likes to.

I blew my nose and went for a walk, the wind howling in San Pedro like the tornado in Wizard of Oz. I thought about the columns of light, how they represented the light each person had brought to the world. In my head, I assured Max, “You are always here with me.” I looked down and there was a great big shell lying in my path. I wondered if I was allowed to take the shell home, and realized, Duh, it’s there for me!

I hope everyone gets a chance to cry today. You might not get a big shell, but a good cry can be cathartic.

I hope tomorrow goes well, but if it doesn’t, I’ve just learned the Jews have an afterlife, and you can’t believe how fucking spectacular it is! As a devout atheist, I know next to nothing about religions except how stupid most of them are. I thought the one cool thing about Judaism was the absence of Heaven, or a Judgement Day. Wrong as usual! Here’s a detailed description of Jewish heaven, long but worth it I think. After you read it, you’ll probably want to convert. L’chaim!

~

Rabbinic literature includes many legends about the World to Come and the two Gardens of Eden. These include:

The world to come is called Paradise, and it is said to have a double gate made of carbuncle that is guarded by 600,000 shining angels. Seven clouds of glory overshadow Paradise, and under them, in the center of Paradise, stands the tree of life. The tree of life overshadows Paradise too, and it has fifteen thousand different tastes and aromas that winds blow all across Paradise.

Under the tree of life are many pairs of canopies, one of stars and the other of sun and moon, while a cloud of glory separates the two. In each pair of canopies sits a rabbinic scholar who explains the Torah. When one enters Paradise one is proffered by Michael (archangel) to God on the altar of the temple of the heavenly Jerusalem, whereupon one is transfigured into an angel (the ugliest person becomes as beautiful and shining as “the grains of a silver pomegranate upon which fall the rays of the sun”).

The angels that guard Paradise’s gate adorn one in seven clouds of glory, crown one with gems and pearls and gold, place eight myrtles in one’s hand, and praise one for being righteous while leading one to a garden of eight hundred roses and myrtles that is watered by many rivers. In the garden is one’s canopy, its beauty according to one’s merit, but each canopy has four rivers – milk, honey, wine, and balsam flowing out from it, and has a golden vine and thirty shining pearls hanging from it. Under each canopy is a table of gems and pearls attended to by sixty angels.

The light of Paradise is the light of the righteous people therein. Each day in Paradise one wakes up a child and goes to bed an elder to enjoy the pleasures of childhood, youth, adulthood, and old age. In each corner of Paradise is a forest of 800,000 trees, the least among the trees greater than the best herbs and spices, attended to by 800,000 sweetly singing angels.

Paradise is divided into seven paradises, each one 120,000 miles long and wide. Depending on one’s merit, one joins one of the paradises: the first is made of glass and cedar and is for converts to Judaism; the second is of silver and cedar and is for penitents; the third is of silver and gold, gems and pearls, and is for the patriarchs, Moses and Aaron, the Israelites that left Egypt and lived in the wilderness, and the kings of Israel; the fourth is of rubies and olive wood and is for the holy and steadfast in faith; the fifth is like the third, except a river flows through it and its bed was woven by Eve and angels, and it is for the Messiah and Elijah; and the sixth and seventh divisions are not described, except that they are respectively for those who died doing a pious act and for those who died from an illness in expiation for Israel’s sins.

Beyond Paradise is the higher Gan Eden, where God is enthroned and explains the Torah to its inhabitants. The higher Gan Eden contains 310 worlds and is divided into seven compartments. The compartments are not described, though it is implied that each compartment is greater than the previous one and is joined based on one’s merit. The first compartment is for Jewish martyrs, the second for those who drowned, the third for “Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and his disciples,” the fourth for those whom the cloud of glory carried off, the fifth for penitents, the sixth for youths who have never sinned; and the seventh for the poor who lived decently and studied the Torah.

The Sanskrit word upeksha means “equanimity, non-attachment, nondiscrimination, even-mindedness, or letting go.” Upa means ‘over,’ and iksh means ‘to look.’ You climb the mountain to be able to look over the whole situation, not bound by one side or the other.

In Buddhism, equanimity (in Pali, upekkha; in Sanskrit, upeksha) is one of the four great virtues (along with compassion, loving kindness, and sympathetic joy) that the Buddha taught his disciples to cultivate.

Equanimity isn’t indifference. It’s a balance that comes from inner stability–remaining centered when surrounded by turmoil. It’s a state of acceptance, but not in the sense of being resigned or defeated. More like being at peace with things as they are.

Does this sound like self help gibberish? I learned the concept from a podcast by an expert on family estrangement. It’s my first podcast! That’s how much the subject weighs on me. Being powerless in a critical aspect of your life is so fucking difficult. It can lead you into a never-ending loop of regret, guilt, anger, remorse, and despair.

I am beginning to see that the best way to approach insoluble situations is to do nothing. Not just do nothing, but to feel nothing. Nothing can be a good choice, and in my interpretation of equanimity, it is essential. Accept what is and let it wash over you. Don’t react to the feelings or urges attendant to helplessness or misery. Just go, Uh-huh, and go about your business.

Until this week, I would have called this approach “denial” and I would lobby hard against it. What’s more pathetic than denial? I am constantly pointing it out and deploring it. It’s part of my Just Admit It worldview. Everyone hates me for this bossy, superior stance but there you go. I want everyone to face their own life, even if it’s a tragedy, and to face up to their demons. I feel it’s their duty, as a human being.

But once you face up to it, why keep suffering? Recognize the truth, evaluate its awfulness, and then stop struggling with it. If you can’t change it, assume a state of equanimity. Say to yourself, My parents are awful, my kid hates me, I am useless, everyone’s crazy…and then return to a state of calm. I think if I practice this enough, it may set me free from my daily torment.

I will aim to only get mad about the things that are fun to be mad at. Bad grammar, hideous denim, and the ex-wife. Also, music awards shows. Did anyone see that stupid American Music Awards the other nigh?? Oh my god, so awful. I guess I should go write an exegesis.

Namaste or whatever.

I started seeing a new therapist this year, and it has been life-changing. He is smart, funny, sensitive, and has done his own time with depression. I feel such a strong connection that I’m hoping he’ll want to be my friend once ethics allow.

Last week over Zoom, I told him about an essay I read, primarily a take-down of Viktor Frankl. We discussed the sacrosanct regard for Frankl, as a Holocaust survivor, and the viability of Primo Levi’s work, since he ended up jumping out a window.

The essay takes Frankl to task for a bunch of things, but most pertinently for his insistence on finding the positive in even the most horrible experience. It’s not exactly like finding the silver lining of concentration camps…but it comes close.

Frankl maintains that we always have a chance to exert our will, to make choices even when all seems lost. If you’re in a camp and you have a piece of bread crust, you can choose to share it, for example.

Anyway, it was a really good, thought provoking essay. The part I wanted to talk about with the therapist was the false notion that suffering brings you closer to god, or that suffering has any point at all. The bible teaches (apparently) that god imposes suffering on you for a reason. Suffering in this life is a preparation for heaven. Maybe you’re supposed to be grateful, for all I know.

Here’s the paragraph that struck a chord for me:

Because infant and childhood deaths were so common it is not surprising that the rabbis of the Talmud tried to inject a glimmer of metaphysical hope into this most tragic of tragedies. Rabbi Yochanan had lost no fewer than ten children, and his colleagues attempted to console him with the promise of a reward to come: “If one engages in Torah and acts of charity and buries his sons, all his transgressions are forgiven.” That might have consoled Yochanan the Rabbi, but it did not console Yochanan the grieving father. Rabbi Yochanan rejected the very notion that suffering -of any sort-was worth a reward. “I want neither this suffering nor its reward.”

What a powerful statement for those of us who are beyond consolation.

Suffering leads to nowhere good, and teaches you nothing. You might be more  compassionate to your fellow man, but surely at a preposterous price. Trying to find value in suffering seems so American to me, but I guess it’s actually religious dogma. I used to listen to Joel Osteen in the car, and we would snicker at his promises to his deluded followers: “Your wife has incurable cancer and your dog died? Cheer up! God is just biding his time, preparing to send you a spiritual check in the mail!”

Haha, there is no check! Not to mention god. Here’s what came up when I googled “suffering is”:

Never for nothing, eh?

I love Rabbi Yochanan’s quote so much that it might be my next tattoo. It looks good in Hebrew:

So then, I don’t remember how we got there, but my therapist and I talked about guilt and how it was okay to just go to bed in the middle of the day if that’s what you need. He said ice cream would be okay too, a form of self-care. Somehow, maybe we were talking about our mutual dispositions, and he said, “Being sensitive and intense isn’t a bad thing, right?”

I disagreed, and said that the pain of being that way is only valuable if you channel it into art. If it’s just suffering that doesn’t produce anything, it’s like an oyster without a pearl. Then, it’s just suffering; there is no pearl.

“Like the Holocaust,” he observed brightly, like the smartest kid in the class. We both started laughing hysterically.

A good therapist always wraps up the session by returning to the beginning, so it comes full circle. UCLA will only cover a certain number of sessions with its doctors, and I’m near the limit with mine. I will miss him terribly!

And this post is the pearl.

Once upon a time, there was a family whose gifted child, Smarty, started a new school. He made a new friend, Icky, who was very sweet but had a number of physical and behavioral shortcomings. He was unattractive and moody but got along well with Smarty, an extrovert who tended to be dominant with his peers.

Icky had a play-date at Smarty’s house, and was picked up by his dad, Pervy, a smarmy voice-actor with an overly familiar manner who told Smarty’s mom that she must’ve been a “helluva sexy teenager”.

Smarty spent more time with Icky, encouraged heartily by Pervy, who confided that Smarty was a good role model for the sullen Icky, who spend most of his time playing video games.

Whenever Smarty went to Icky’s house, Pervy took them out to restaurants and bought them gifts. He soon made room in a closet for Smarty’s clothes and gave Smarty a spare key to the house.

One day, alone with Mom, Pervy said that he might be able to “give her what she wanted.” Shocked, she nervously replied that she only wanted a chartreuse suede Chanel handbag. Pervy asked what that cost, and then backed off.

Smarty began to gain weight and his mom asked Pervy to stop taking him out to huge meals of barbecued ribs and potatoes. Pervy ignored her. Smarty discovered religion and Pervy found a Jewish synagogue for Jews who didn’t believe in god. Mom and Dad agreed to attend a service there, where prayers omitted the god part. Mom and Dad were atheists but wanted to let Smarty work out his own belief system.

Then, Pervy had an idea: He would have a Bar-Mitzvah alongside Smarty! WHAT?! Here, Mom stepped in and said no, that will not happen.

Meanwhile, Dad had a group of old friends who got together to play music one night a week. He brought Pervy with him once, and Pervy soon began to come on his own, installing himself as one of the groups key vocalists.

Smarty’s family was struck by tragedy, and Pervy invited him to stay with him and Icky for a month. When Mom wanted Smarty back at home, Pervy said, Well, I promised him a month. I can’t go back on my promise.

One day, Smarty was very angry with his parents and called Pervy to come pick him up. Pervy came and even though Smarty swore at him, he obediently took Smarty away.

Mom now despised Pervy. Smarty moved away and fell in love. He told Mom and Dad that he might ask Pervy to officiate at the wedding. Mom screamed, “NO! I’m not coming if that happens!”

This caused a rift between Mom and Smarty, one of many that should have healed but kept erupting.

Time passed.  Pervy still sang in the music group, using hand motions like Celine Dion. Mom missed Smarty and one day, emailed Icky to ask how Smarty was doing. Icky immediately reported back to Smarty, who angrily demanded that Mom stop contacting his friends. Icky blocked Mom on twitter.

More time passed and Pervy started a Kickstarter page for a movie he wanted to make about a log lady. He offered a grand prize of dinner with himself to the highest donor.

Go and see it if it gets released! Just don’t let him play with your kid or come to your music group.

Let us all follow the Christmas tradition* of reading  The Story of the Lesbian Stick.

~

* Heartfelt atheist blessings to all you people who come here and especially you special ones who have given me so much. xo

It’s a cliche that cliches are often based on truth, but the biggest cliches are easy to forget, like the ones about beauty. Beauty isn’t truth, but it elevates the soul just as much as garbage debases it. I keep forgetting to look for beauty in my search for relief. By relief, I mean relief from my own thoughts, which are my own worst enemy (not counting my trolls of course.)

Last night I went to see Van Morrison, and was reminded of the healing power of communal joy. Normally, I don’t want to make the effort to do things that involve any commitment of time and energy. A Van Morrison concert requires buying tickets, a strategy to get across town, a timetable to keep, packing snacks to eat, putting together an outfit that’s comfortable but reflective of my superior style, and so on. Thanks to my husband, I gathered myself to go.

Beauty is probably everywhere for all I know but I’m finding I need to search for it and cling to it. I wish this would become a habit, like checking the New York Times to see what new travesty is afoot. All my habits are bad but I know it’s possible to form new ones, better ones. Smoking weed is a relatively new habit that’s improved my life immensely. Same with Chai Latte.

Music used to a big part of my life before smartphones. Driving and listening to the mixes Max made me was always so pleasurable.  A house full of musicians was something I took for granted. The empty nest is quieter, and there is a joy that can’t be replaced but there is still joy to be had. I might need some mechanism to remind me: A rubber band, an alarm clock, a mnemonic acronym like MOEB (Music Or Else Bummer)?

I wish I could follow Van Morrison around the world and see every show. I wish I could rouse myself to get out and see more art. It’s a first-world problem but a life or death one for the severely depressed. (See Schopenhauer.) The crack is not where the light comes in, it’s where the vessel will break under pressure.

What form of beauty do you turn to for consolation? Tips, anyone? Here is a video that my friend Andra sent to me, an excursion into undersea beauty that left me weak with religious ecstasy.

And here’s some sparks of joy for you synesthetes.

1. Admit that everything is horrible and out of control.

2. Accept that no god of anyone’s understanding will step in to fix it. (see historical genocide, natural disasters, Donald Trump.)

3. Turning yourself over to any person or entity will only reduce what’s left of your free will. (see religion, social media, and advertising.)

4. Admit that you are fucked up and that in large part it was your childhood experience that is to blame, along with your genes.

5. Accept your failures and forgive yourself. Ask forgiveness where you deserve it but don’t be surprised if you don’t get it.

6. Look to thinkers you respect for the wisdom you need to keep going. Try Camus, Sartre, Schopenhauer, George Orwell, Doris Lessing, Fran Lebowitz, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, or Hermann Hesse.

7. See a professional if things get too rough.

8. Accept that you have caused harm but that you are human. Try to do your best going forward.

9. Every day, try to think about someone else and try to do one small thing to ease someone’s burden, even a phone call to someone who lives alone.

10. Realize how repetitive the 12 steps of AA are! Fucking hell! Enough guilt already!

11. Continue to think about other people, since reflecting on your flaws is an endless loop created by brain chemistry gone awry.

12. Reach out to others in your despair! They too know that everything is horrible and out of control! Ask for and offer comfort! Look to art when your brain hurts or your heart aches. And have a drink if you feel like it. I’ve just discovered Flaming Margarita’s and they are amazing!