💾 Archived View for tilde.club › ~winter › gemlog › 2024 › 7-01.gmi captured on 2024-08-18 at 17:55:51. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content
⬅️ Previous capture (2024-07-09)
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Trump has some immunity from prosecution, Supreme Court rules
With the news that the US Supreme Court has declared that the President has immunity for all acts conducted in the official business of the office, and that such cannot be entered as evidence in court proceedings, it's hard not to feel a dark cloud gathering. This, surely, is what Germany felt in the 30s, just before the tipping point, when politics were still democratic, until they weren't.
I've been trying so hard to live outside of my screen today. To put it down, play cards with my in-laws, smile like nothing's wrong. Inside, every nerve is screaming. It feels like everything's bad and getting worse, and that things will never be this good again. In one of my my group chats, I learned that an old acquaintance (not in our group, but close with others in the chat) lost her daughter to suicide last week. Another person in the chat is really going through it: her husband's father dying, their son spiralling dangerously out of control, their family finances in incredibly dire straights.
It's depressing to be slouching into middle age, seeing friends' kids going through the same things we did a quarter century ago. Fighting the same, silent troubles. We said we'd be better parents; some, like me, promised we wouldn't be parents at all. And despite this, despite everything we did (or didn't), we found ourselves unable to protect youth and hope from the worst things in the world. Events repeating. Growing darker. The snake writhing, choking on its tail.
The last little while I've been thinking of people I used to care about, whose lives diverged from mine, hoping they're okay. And wishing hard that they'd reach out, because I've learned over the years that I'm small, and meek. Afraid of rejection, of silence, of having my intentions questioned, of maybe being thought a creep. I don't mind saying my self-esteem has been battered by people and events from the distant past far more than I'd ever care to admit. All those whispers that I'm awkward. A good person, maybe, but a bad lover, something to be discarded on the way to something better. Even though my partner is wonderful, loves me unconditionally, the things I've heard, or heard second-hand, linger. I know they shouldn't, but they do. That it shouldn't bother me, but it does. A deep unfairness in the way things people say about us cut us deep.
Storm clouds are gathering. Here both literally and figuratively, with weeks of rain, and more on the way tonight. What can we do in the face of this? Where can we find happiness in the dark? Against all the people who would wish us ill, do us harm, or worse? Well, we could do good things, for a start. Small acts. Create a little brightness. Find something that makes someone close to us happy. Tell the people we care for that we care for them.
I know I know I'm hypocritical in this - unable to hit send on the email myself, or to add long-lost friends on social media. So I hope. And in the subsequent quiet, push the hope someplace else. But it's still there. If nothing else, right now it feels like hope is all we've got. So tonight I'm going to read a trashy book, publish this gemlog, maybe have a late cup of tea. And in the morning, when my inbox is empty, when I see nobody's added me, I'll find something good in tomorrow, too. One day at a time. If you give up, they win. Breathe, winter, breathe. There are so many other good people hurting, too.