Fight or Flight?

For an alcoholic, “doing a geographic” is a knee-jerk response to anxiety. But anger is a more powerful force than anxiety, one that argues for staying put and fighting.

If it were up to me, I’d move to Newfoundland, to the little harbor town of Twillingate, where my maternal great-grandmother Kate Steuart Stirling was born. I don’t mind the cold. Twillingate (and who could not fall in love with a name like that?) is in the Twillingate Islands, on the northeastern coast of Newfoundland, which is itself an island, of course, part of the province of Newfoundland and Labrador in Canada.

I would be sad to leave this island, but as long as I could live on another island with a small population, I’d be good with that.

Alas, it is not so easy just to move to Canada and become a citizen. There are logistics. And laws. And, oh, there’s the small problem that my husband does not want to move to a colder climate. That, and the rest of my family is in Delaware, and I would miss them.

The bigger problem is that I would feel like a deserter and a coward. I should rephrase that. Not just “feel” like a deserter – I would actually be one.

Fight or flight? What direction to go when the adrenaline surges?

My usual practice is to run. I did this when I left my job and my (former) husband in Connecticut and ran away to Martha’s Vineyard when I was only one year sober. In AA terms, this is called “doing a geographic.” Alcoholics have a tendency to think that if one place isn’t working out well, moving to another will solve everything. Except it won’t, because wherever you go, guess who will also be there? You. And you will cause yourself the same problems you always have. But at the time, the idea of moving is seductive. It seems like a good way to alleviate discomfort, which makes alcoholics crazy.

In my case the geographic worked out in the long run, because my gut got something right. It told me I needed to live in an environment much different from the one I had been in, one that was less stressful, less suburban, and more aligned with nature. But I still brought me with me, and I made mistakes and missteps that make me cringe when I think about them now.

Heck, I still have me (and all my anxieties) with me. No matter where I move, I will never leave them behind.

In the same way, I could leave America, but could never leave America. I am an American and always will be. While my mother’s grandparents did not arrive in America until the 1800s, my father’s family came over from England with William Penn in the 1600s and were deeply involved in the revolution for independence and the creation of the United States. So, I carry with me all that that means – good and bad. But even if I were a first-generation American, I know that I would feel a deep sense of embarrassment about my country right now.

Embarrassment is too small a word. What I feel is more like repugnance. I am so repulsed by the slimy web of lies and gaslighting and “othering” being spun all around us by our supposed leaders that I feel like I have to run to escape it. (Or at least take a non-stop shower to wash off the vile odor of moral decay.)

Though in saying that, I realize I sound like I’m up on a moral high horse – as if I don’t understand that none of this is truly new, that the evils of racism and sexism and the cyclonic concentration of power into the hands of the few haven’t always plagued our nation.

Those in power exploit our innate human fear of otherness, pitting us against each other so that in the end, only they win.

It is exhausting.

And at least for me, anxiety-producing. Though I’ve been in recovery from alcoholism for 19 years – and I have much better tools for dealing with anxiety than having a drink or moving to a new location – it doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the panic coming on.

But when latent evil manifests itself in raw daylight, an emotion more powerful than anxiety rises up. It’s called anger. And the direct result of anger is a desire to protect – and resist.

Resistance. How can you not be a part of resistance to evil if you believe in truth and fairness – and the rule of law?

I thought about this a lot last night as I watched the videos of the shooting of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis, which was nothing short of an execution. I felt like I wanted to jump through the video screen and throttle those federal agents (killers). My anger – at them and even more so at the horrible how-low-can-you-go gaslighting by their bosses – was so visceral that my husband had to calm me down.

We had friends coming over for dinner, so fortunately I had to turn my attention to finishing the dinner prep and then to welcoming them and their two lovely dogs. My husband lit a fire, and for a few hours in good company, I had the luxury of putting “the troubles” out of my mind.

But once I began to think about it again, that’s when the “flight” (as opposed to the “fight”) instinct returned. Because as much as I want to resist, I’m afraid if I stay engaged with this fight, the tools I have will not be enough to manage my anxiety. But when I read that sentence back to myself, it sounds like rubbish. Of course I can manage my anxiety – and my anger at the same time – by being useful.

If I do something every day, no matter how small, I can be a part of this fight. I can feel like I’m channeling my anger productively while maintaining my sanity.

This week I emailed my senator, Thomas Markey (D-MA), expressing my support for his call for invoking the 25^th amendment. I donated to the ACLU yesterday. This morning I reviewed emails from Indivisible about how to be helpful if and when ICE comes (back) to the Island. (They are already swarming over Massachusetts and of course our neighbor, Maine.)

I have, and will continue to, use my small social media accounts to repost from reputable accounts looking to get beyond the gaslighting and reach out to people who may be surrounded by fake news.

You never know who you might reach. I know this because many of the food and cooking folks that I follow (since food media is my work) have posted that some of their followers are upset “that they won’t just stick to food.” (As if food weren’t all about connection and community to begin with.)

@thekoreanvegan, has an answer to a follower who says, “When are you going to go back to sharing recipe videos?” She says, “When the government stops killing ppl in the streets.”

Last night I reposted part of Heather Cox Richardson’s clear-eyed assessment of what happened yesterday, with her usual keen historical perspective and her positioning of daily events in the context of this administration’s goals. If you want to understand better what is going on, you can watch the whole video here and follow her here on Substack and on Instagram.

But there was one thing she said that stood out to me above everything else:

“This is a moment. This is the moment at which it becomes too late for people to say after this, ‘Oh, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what was going to happen.’ It’s out there now.”

She goes on to say:

“It is no longer possible for people to say, ‘Oh I believe in law and order and so I support Donald Trump. This is the moment when people have to say, regardless of party, either I believe in our Constitution, I believe in the rights that the framers wrote into that Constitution, or they have to say, ‘No, I’m siding with the likes of Stephen Miller and believing that my existence is under siege by immigrants.’”

It seems to me that the good people of Minneapolis know what side they’re on. They are heroes on the front lines, fighting to preserve an America that isn’t perfect but that guarantees Constitutional rights and governs by the rule of law. When I feel like fleeing, I’m going to think of them. And remind myself that I can help in small ways without freaking out. That we can all help just by not turning away from the truth.

💚

“Becoming emotionally numb to evil leads to the death of the human heart, and I intend to keep mine alive.”

— Parker J. Palmer