We have the power

Sometimes we just have to slow down, step back, take care of ourselves, and remember.

I’m not a dog person. But this week, I felt like a dog. One of Pavlov’s dogs, to be specific.

I could say I’m a cat person, but I’m really a cat. And right now, I’m striving to be my cat, who rejects the world for a good sunbeam as often as necessary for survival and happiness.

Actually, not one of Pavlov’s, because his experiment was about positive stimulus and learned response. Positive stimulus has felt in short supply of late. For every day of rallies involving millions of participants, and epic Senate floor speeches, there are more immigrants being deported illegally to foreign gulags, dozens of tariffs tanking the stock market and gutting retirement accounts, billions of dollars capriciously stripped from major research universities, and hundreds of politicians suppressing the voting rights of millions of citizens. In response, I’ve felt myself slipping into learned helplessness, which wasn’t what Pavlov was going for. Instead, learned helplessness was the fate of Martin Seligman’s dogs.

American psychologist Martin Seligman, way back in 1967, conducted experiments on dogs involving intermittent, unpredictable electric shocks. Over time, unable to anticipate or prevent the shocks the dogs became depressed and apathetic, proving that helplessness can be learned. Later, researchers moved onto human subjects to look at related notions of self-efficacy, the belief that you can have an effect on your reality. Those researchers found that humans subjected to intermittent and unpredictable punishment tended toward learned helplessness if their story about the situation was that the punishment was global (consistent across all contexts), stable (wasn’t going to change), and internal (caused by internal factors).

Even the smallest sense that the punishment was, instead, specific (unique to a particular situation), unstable (specific to a point in time), and external (attributed to situational factors), prevented subjects from losing their sense of self-efficacy and, thus, descending into learned helplessness.

In other words, the story we tell ourselves about this present moment and our power within it really, really matters.

A while back, I shared an interview between Jane Ratcliffe and the author Lydia Yuknavitch. In it, Lydia shared the belief that folks who’ve experienced trauma and other sustained, systemic constrictions are particularly well-resourced for this moment.

Another thing I'm reminded of is that those of us who have been carrying past abuse, or difficulty, or trauma, or illness, or disability, or oppressions and repressions, and carrying the water of that and the shit of that, and the trying to help with that, we're particularly well-resourced for this moment. People can treat us like we carry woe and it’s a heaviness we have but really we have the skill set needed. And we've spent our whole lives working on those skills.

I think Lydia is right. If you’ve managed to escape abuse, or survived in the face of people and systems determined to crush your spirit, then you know what it is to fight back against learned helplessness.

What do I know about fighting back against learned helplessness?

I know that tending to my body and my sense of connection sustains me, reminding me what I can do in the face of all that I can’t control. Tending to my body means eating whole foods, staying hydrated, moving my body regularly, and getting as much sleep as possible. It means avoiding alcohol and excess caffeine and sugar.

These may seem like simple things, but for me, they’re remarkably hard to prioritize when the hits keep coming and my body is drowning in cortisol. And the truth is, I don’t manage all of them well all the time. This week, I’ve managed to stay well hydrated and sent myself to bed with a book before 9 PM more than once. I walked miles every day. I’m still not drinking alcohol. But (this week and every week) woe be unto the person who gets between me and my morning coffee(s). And the Brown Butter Rice Krispie Treats from the café next to my office? I might have had one every day.

It’s a work in progress, this life.

I also continue (every day since the election) to send small love notes to my nearest and dearest. I snuggle with my cat and water my plants. And I step away from the news to watch television that makes me laugh and cry in equal measure. Current favorites? The Voice and American Idol, Will Trent, The Residence, and Dying for Sex.

Dying for Sex might be some of the best story-telling I’ve ever seen. But that’s another post for another day.

Right now is really, really bad, friends. But for some of us, it’s been pretty bad all along. Yet, we’re still here, living and loving and even laughing, and playing the long game.

So, trust me when I say, you cannot practice your integrity when you’re in cortisol-flushed reactivity and learned helplessness. Yes, there’s so much to do out there in the world, but you won’t be available to do it if you don’t take care of you— your body and spirit and relationships. You’ll forget your power to affect your reality and that way lies madness.

So, please, this weekend or sometime soon, get some sleep. Eat some real food. Get outside for a few minutes and loosen your muscles. Give and get some long, full body hugs. Text someone and tell them you love them. Watch some comedy that makes you laugh. Let yourself have a good cry.

Breathe deeply whenever you have a moment. In. Out. In. Out.

We got here together and we’re gonna get out together, too. We have the power to do that.

I love you.

XO, Asha

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Extra Credit! Watch Amanda Barise remind us all that this world ain’t nothing without women or girls.

Tell ‘em, Amanda!