You are not alone. We are here together.

The madness and anger of living amidst the dystopian disconnect.

"I feel caught in the storm now, just spinning and spinning. I've been spinning since November, and I am sick of it. Just about everyone I know is losing their minds. Certainly, people are being brave in choosing to smile and not constantly scream, or quietly focusing on their art or work. But maybe screaming is good. The art, as much as I want to just write and not think about everything, will not break the fascists on its own."

— Michael Rance, Who Does the Future Belong To? Three Chairs

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I’ve been thinking about writing a post about how I feel like I’m losing my grip, but I didn’t want to alarm anyone.

So don’t be alarmed.

The post quoted above from

Michael Rance

has reassured me that I’m not alone in this impending sense of madness, and maybe we’re all feeling a little disjointed. So, I thought I’d write to let you know that if you, too, are feeling unhinged, you're not alone.

Some days, I wake up and it’s like my body and brain can’t contain the discomfort of what feels like a dystopian existence. I remember the feeling of genocidal cognitive dissonance—where we were expected to keep going with our day-to-day routines, even as we bore witness to the horrors unfolding in Palestine. Some days, it feels like that dystopian cognitive dissonance has seeped all the way into my soul, and it makes me want to scream.

Grocery shopping alongside Nazi salutes.

Swimming lessons during climate collapse.

Ice cream for dessert, mixed with species extinction, unfettered neoliberal capitalism, the homelessness crisis, and massive crop failure.

I worry about my kids’ social lives. I worry about the possibility of a future where I could get black-bagged like in V for Vendetta. I worry about paying my mortgage and what to make for dinner.

Sometimes, simple things like the act of driving my car across the city makes me want to explode with rage. Why do I have to drive a car? Why are we all driving cars? How is it that with all our knowledge, skill, and technology, we haven’t found a better solution for getting around urban spaces? Because it costs $3.50 for a single bus fare and takes 45 minutes to get anywhere close to where I need to be on public transit? And I refuse to be that mom my kids resent because I wouldn’t drive them to their swimming lessons or forest school.

Why are we all being pushed along this track when we know full well where it ends?

I want us all to come together as a community to share, dream, and support each other. But we can’t, because we’re all fucking exhausted from selling our labour. We can’t fix anything because capitalism won’t let us. It’s an endless spiral toward hyper-individualization and isolation, and it’s maddening.

Have you read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? I’ll admit it took me far too long to finish it, but I did manage to finish it a few years ago. There’s a scene that has stuck with me where the narrator is driving his kid to buy bunk beds, and he starts to lose his mind, completely forgetting where he is or how to get home.

Some days, I feel like I’m not far off.

I mean, what are we doing? How can we just be going through the motions while witnessing this dystopian nightmare growing around us? But then I remember: we’re paying our bills and distracting ourselves with subscription TV services, maybe trying to get some time off for a vacation—a break. We need the breaks to stop ourselves from losing our shit.

It’s hard to know where to channel our rage and frustration. Capitalism is centerless. Protests go unanswered. As Rance says, art—while an important tool—will not defeat fascists.

The reality is that we are living in this strange, new, post-pandemic, isolated, genocidal dystopia where we are watching our community members, neighbours, and friends fall through the cracks of the system, while we’re still trying to maintain our footing and avoid falling through ourselves. It’s a total mind fuck. And the only way we can get through it is by pretending it’s not happening.

I try desperately to hold on to positive actions instead of getting dragged down into the mire: community events, rest when needed, staying connected to those I care about, and sharing stories of a better world. Deep in my soul (the same place where that dystopian disconnect makes me want to scream), I know that this is the only way forward for me. But sometimes, it’s exhausting, and often, I feel very lonely.

For fuck's sake, let’s stay connected, friends. Message me and we’ll rage together. Lean on each other and the communities that support you. Be ruthlessly honest. This shit is hard, and we need each other to get through it. You are not alone. We are here together.