Self-Love in the Time of the Trump Era
A
I am guessing that anyone who was raised in a household with a malignant narcissist as a parent or adult figurehead is familiar with the sinking feeling that happened when this individual was in an especially foul, punishing mood. There is a spectrum, of course, but the fury of a malignant narcissist directed at you often means that your very foundation is at risk. Reexperiencing it means that it feels like your very foundation is at risk, that you are walking on eggshells. It means good luck with focusing on anything else until it happens, “it” meaning the punishments coming your way. It means almost wishing that it would just happen already so you could get it over with, no matter how ugly it is.
In your body, it feels like you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like the very definition of uneasiness, of instability, of having no control. It feels like peace is as far from you as possible. It feels like you’re on the verge of crying or a nervous breakdown; maybe it feels like you are numb, just going through the motions. It also feels like if you receive one more notification alert, you may well lose what’s left of your equilibrium.
Rightwing trolls, the original fuck your feelings crowd, love to use the term “triggered” mockingly because acting like toughies while they regularly dissolve into furious tantrums over the Barbie movie or a logo changing makes all the sense in the world.
Despite their shallow hot takes, being triggered is actually a recognized and specific state of psychological distress, the kind you might feel when you are exposed to something or someone that is reminiscent of a prior traumatic event or abuser.
Being triggered is often not something you are necessarily even consciously aware of in the moment that puts you in flight, fight or freeze mode after exposure to a flashback-type event. Think of it like panicking after hearing a car backfire if you’re a war veteran. No matter how long ago your time in the military was, such a trigger can rip you from the present moment again and suddenly your body responds as if you are back in a war zone. Or if you are treated in a way that pulls you back to a time and place when you were around someone who harmed you. Whether or not that present-day trigger is an abuser, your body may react like you’ve been exposed to danger again. It’s not rational but this is how our bodies react to stress. The body keeps the score, as the book on trauma and healing reminds us so succinctly.
I am not a psychologist. I am not a therapist. I’m not playing one on the internet. I am an adult survivor of childhood abuse and I can simply describe how past traumas unfold within me, and what I have gathered in conversations with friends from similar backgrounds.
What we have with Trump and his regime is for many of us, a reactivation of traumatic memories and experiences. It was bad enough when Trump was just embarrassing us in a way that Drunk Dad did in front of the neighbors, or when he demands blind obedience despite being a habitual liar, but now that he is actually threatening people, weaponizing armed, masked agents and turning the National Guard against cities with high populations of people of color, it is no longer cringe or mortifying. It is personal, it is ominous and it is dangerous. If you have suffered trauma in the past at the hands of a malignant narcissist who had control over your wellbeing and is on a tyrannical rampage, and if you care about the people most vulnerable to the regime in power today, I am going to hazard a guess that your nervous system is lighting up like a dashboard with a “check engine” issue right now.
As activists in this particular historic moment with white privilege, it’s hard to talk about the personal aspects of this administration without feeling like we’re throwing pity parties for ourselves. It is obviously a time of tremendous hardship and stress on immigrant communities, overwhelmingly, Latinx ones right now. At the same time, it seems like not showing up for ourselves as well and developing management skills to meet this particular moment is a recipe for burn out.
While we are all in danger to varying degrees under a chaotic, unhinged president, I know that because of the advantages conferred to me by my grandparents, who were fleeing oppression and arrived here a few generations ago, I am much safer than an immigrant of color. That doesn’t mean that my phone blowing up with notifications and headlines demanding my attention to democracy imploding isn’t going to also affect me. What it has kicked in with me is a need for hypervigilance and constantly scanning the horizon that feels a lot like a dark time in my life.
If I silence my phone, I feel anxious and guilty. The other day, while my phone was silenced, I missed a text about an upcoming doctor’s appointment that needed to be rescheduled, and I missed the chance to book the appointment for the next day. If I don’t silence my phone, though, I am constantly distracted by new beeps and on edge.
There really is no right way to face this current moment. What I have found works for me one day is ineffective the next but if I want to keep showing up in and for my community, I need to find a way to manage the emotions around what happens when tyrants rule. In addition to silencing my phone but setting an alarm to check notifications and texts every 30 minutes or so, I have found that the best way I can be present is to stay healthy and embodied. It means reaching into my toolkit. It means avoid despair through:
• Daily walks
• Daily yoga
• Taking deep breaths
• Going on a bike ride
• Getting back into reading books at night instead of streaming or scrolling
• Scheduling things I’m looking forward to, like seeing a friend
• Allowing myself so-called guilty pleasures (Real Housewives, take me awayyyyyy!)
• Playing with my animals
• Calling a long-distance friend
Everyone’s toolkit is going to look different. Sometimes I’m better at it, sometimes I’m worse at it, but I have found that when I am slipping through the cracks and on edge, it usually means I have been neglecting my own care, which includes prioritizing moments of gentleness and moments of joy. If we are going to show up in a meaningful and sustainable way, we have to figure out strategies for our own mental and emotional health in the thick of Trump 2.0.
We are sensitive, kind and feeling people. No wonder this is a time that challenges on numerous fronts, especially factoring in our own histories of trauma or even baggage. It is as important as ever that we double down on our intrinsic, complex, beautiful humanity if we want to give as much as possible in this historic moment because a cracked vessel is quickly drained. Silence your phone and pop back in when you’re ready.
Or was it a few days? A couple of weeks? Jeezus, I am not even kidding.