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Can I MASK you a question?

Living in American feels hard lately. Everything in so heavy--politics, religion, the pandemic, social justice...nothing seems easy. And the truth is, it isn't. That feels like something on which we can all agree, right? Imagine now, how exponentially more difficult it is to simultaneously live in Texas. Talk about heavy. I know, I am probably pissing off some of the Texas natives right now. I'm okay with that. Because right now, living as a Texan is tough. And, frankly, I don't love it.

A few weeks ago Texas suffered one of the worst winter storms in history. People lost power. Some froze to death. Literally. People died from the cold. If you have access to the news, you probably heard about it. Turns out, it all could have been avoided with a little regulation. Imagine that. Well, to add insult to injury, our governor rescinded our mask order yesterday. You read that right. No more masks for the great State of Texas. There is speculation that it was no accident it coincided with Texas Independence Day (don't get me started on Texas Independence Day). Governor Abbot is no stranger to political ploys. The saddest part of all of this...so many Texas citizens were thrilled at this decision. People were taking to social media faster than you can get Covid in a public school to sing his praises.  I saw post after post flooding my Facebook feed pontificating about freedom and pushing junk science. Yeah. I read the comments. I know. I shouldn't have. Every time I do, I regret it (this is a topic for another post). Normally, reading the comments just makes me angry. I may toss my phone down on the kitchen island and curse. But yesterday, it just broke my heart. Today my heart still feels broken.

Why? Because I don't know how to live in a world where people care so little about each other. I am struggling to find my way through the deluge of anger and vitriol. It feels like it gets worse every single day. And, the thing that hurts so much--the thing that just kills me--is that I can't see people's empathy anymore. I am looking for it. But I can't find it. I see bumper stickers and political signs. Yeah. They're abundant. I see us versus them. I see lots of "Me! Me! Me!" But I don't see any "we." Where is our collective empathy? Where is our humanity? I am drowning in this sea of unabashed bitterness when all I want is for us to see each other again. The pain I feel today is palpable. I feel it so deeply. It is the pit in my stomach. It is the lump in my throat. How do we get back to empathy? How can I convince you that you should care about your fellow human? How can I convince you that just because someone is old or sick or young or vulnerable doesn't mean they don't matter? How can I convince you that should mean they matter even more? How? Tell me. Please.

I have spent 21 years of my life educating young humans. During this time, it has always been my first goal, before anything else, to see their humanity. And, just as importantly, for them to see the humanity in each other. Has it all been for nothing? Today, that's how it feels. And I am weighed down by this grief that I just can't shake. That's what this blog post is really about. Not about Texas or masks. Nope, it's about my grief and my despair. It is about the hopelessness I feel. The hopelessness I can't seem to un-feel. It permeates every part of me right now. It the skin I am in. And there is no escaping your own skin.



Comments

  1. Hey, cheer up! All is really not lost! I know that's how it feels sometimes, but there really ARE some good folks out there! I'm sure you'll meet some soon! All those humans you taught for 21 years? They're probably all over the globe right now, spreading your humanity and empathy.

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  2. Your thoughts, feelings, worries, are universal. At least they are to the ones who care so deeply about what is going on.

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    1. Indeed - to those who care deeply. Thank you for being one of those who care. <3

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  3. This sentence was so good: I am drowning in this sea of unabashed bitterness when all I want is for us to see each other again.
    That's all I want for you and for me, too.

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    1. Thank you. I so agree. I want it for all of us...so much.

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  4. You hit on so many points in this slice and they all fall as heavy as a reader for me as they feel to you. I'm sending you hugs and hope for some peace and like minded people to surround you. Also, just say no to comment sections (except for slice of life comment sections of course!)

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for reading my blog daily and commenting! It is so cool to know people are reading my writing. I appreciate your support and your hope for a like minded tribe!

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  5. Damn, Melissa. Your writing is poetic, powerful, and persuasive. All the "pontificating about freedom and pushing junk science" on social media is enough for anyone to lose faith in humanity. Your italicized question speaks volumes about our American individualistic culture. I share your grief and despair my friend. Your final sentence slayed me.

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  6. Just gut wrenching. I could feel your sorrow and dissapointment. It is so unsettling and to know that as teachers we try so hard to build community and humanity, to feel as though it is crumbling in front of us. It is too much. I know it is hopeless but I also can tell, from your words, that your hopelessness will be met with hope. You, at your core, are a hopeful person. It will return.

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    1. I think you are right, Betsy. Somedays it is just harder to feel hopeful. I appreciate your words and commiseration.

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  7. Hugs! You did such a great job expressing your thoughts and feelings.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for reading and commenting on my blog! I appreciate your encouragement and commiserating!

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