I went mad in my attic during the Trump years — an era I fear is not behind us, but my mental state was worse when he was actually in office. Nearly every day of his presidency, I was on some level in profound distress.
I was frightened. I was furious. I was obsesssed. I was strung out and sleepless, lying awake until dawn as often as not, only to doze off for a few hours in the very early morning.
In general, I have been blessed with nearly odorless sweat, but when I’m deeply afraid or in despair, that changes and my perspiration takes on a sharp musky scent. You know how people will say a dog or an enemy can smell your fear? If I’m not vigilant, I will start to literally reek of it.
During the worst of those days, I remember soaking through three or four shirts a day, peeling them off to toss them into the laundry every few hours.
I felt afraid almost all the time. I was afraid of the gun nuts arming themselves to the teeth to go to Dunkin’ Donuts. I was afraid of the monster trucks dripping with flags: Trump flags, MAGA flags, Don’t Tread On Me Flags, police flags, Confederate flags and sometimes even swastika flags. I was afraid of the Trump caravans that would stretch down the road for miles, on their way into town for what felt like a Nazi rally.
Most of all, I was stunned by and very afraid of the essential indifference of some of our friends — local friends who checked every box on the cultural dominance checklist, who did not like Trump but were not truly afraid of him the way I was, because they felt — and they were — as safe as anyone could be, no matter what happened. Hitler could have come to power here, and they would still be absolutely safe. They were good people, but there was an ever-widening gulf between them and me as the Trump administration rolled along. I’d never encountered that mindset before in my life and it ate away at me every day.
In my efforts to get them to really care, I became a harpy. Gone was the fun friend who liked to drink and laugh and talk about books and theater and every other art form and sexuality and marriage and parenting. I sat trembling in their homes. I brought politics into every conversation. I was tiresome. I was a drag. I did not hide my judgment or resentment.
It amazes me now that much of the left — and especially the far left — has come to feel as threatening to me as the far right. Intellectually I know that Trump is as dangerous as ever and that he very well might be elected again, but it is astonishing how the specter of right-wing hatred has receded on a visceral level, and been replaced by the equally rabid hatred of the far left. The truth is that I’m even more afraid in my body when I see footage of Jewish kids barricaded in some college library or lecture hall while a mob screams and pounds on the locked doors just outside. To me, it has come to seem that — in our culture at this moment — what passes for social justice activism is just bullying and ostracizing Jews.
Yet I am not going mad in my attic in the same way I was just a few years ago. And this is not for lack of distress. After October 7th, it felt as if a dark pall had been cast over every one of my days and nights. I could not feel joy for many weeks. My grief registered as physical pain and it was hard to draw a deep breath. But I still felt essentially sane, and the determination to stay that way was at the forefront of my resolve every day.
Part of the reason I launched this substack is that I’m seeing so many of the Jews I love staying mired in the madness. I don’t have a shred of judgment around this. As I just confessed: I have been there, in spades. I get it only too well.
But I want to share what helped me to get out of that very dark place so that if you’re in a similar place right now, you don’t have to stay there. It took intention and will. It took the recognition that being there wasn’t helping me or anyone else as much as sanity would — the recognition that we’re in this for the long haul and we need to cultivate emotional staying power in order to remain effective and strong.
I had to adjust the way I moved through my days in both minor and major ways. The minor stuff is easy to talk about. I had to get outside every day, ideally to walk for several miles. I had to limit my intake of online content — not turn away from it, but contain it. I had to cultivate enough discipline not to look at my phone when I woke in the middle of the night. I had to spend time in nature and maybe most important of all, I had to seek out face-to-face time with other Jews.
I’ll be real and say also that I asked my doctor for anti-depressants. Some nights I took a sleeping pill to ensure that I would get adequate sleep. The line between sane and crazy can be razor-thin, and often I feel that the ability to sleep is what makes or breaks our state of essential well-being. The ones who can sleep are able to hold onto their marbles. The ones who can’t tend to be in peril.
It also helps to eat well and drink enough water. It helps to cultivate a sense of peace within your home, and it helps to have a pet.
Other changes I had to put in place required more of a psychic shift, and I will go into depth about those tomorrow.
I will also be at the ADL conference tomorrow! I might be writing my daily dispatch somewhat later than usual, but I will definitely post one before going to sleep.
Until then, I’m sending love, as always. Mir Veln Zey Iberlebn. Am Yisrael Chai.
I appreciate this. I have very much been a, as I put it on FB today, "a vortex of Jewish rage."
I've begun regulating my sleep again and really adding nourishing kind things to my diet. I'm throwing a lot of time and energy into finding ways to help people. Staying off socials is impossible but regulating it a little better is happening. The idea of more Trump years turns me into a gibbering fear-pile. This is... different. The anger here is different.
I'm grateful for your writing and that you saw the need and made this space. To help. Thanks for helping walk some of us home. <3
I agree that sleep is the key to staying sane. No sleep can lead to a psychotic break or a seizure. Hope your time in NYC is great—looking forward to reading your updates on it.