Today I screamed into a towel.
Not metaphorically. I literally pressed my face into a fresh, still-warm, lavender scented towel and just let out a soundless, pathetic groan that probably startled the cat. (Sorry, Romeo.) Then I folded it. Neatly. Right on top of the others. Because that’s what we do, right? We carry on.
I think that’s what makes this moment feel so surreal. How normal and not-normal everything is all at once. Like, I’m watching the world burn in real time. My rights are being stripped. Entire regions are vanishing under authoritarianism, climate collapse, and genocide. But I still need to change the sheets. There’s still laundry. There are still dishes. And texts I haven’t replied to. And joints that ache no matter how many supplements I try.
It’s absurd. And it’s exhausting.
Because somewhere in the middle of folding undies and doomscrolling, I realized how much of my life right now is spent pretending I don’t feel like I’m crashing out. Or that the world is on fire around me. Quietly. In broad daylight.
And yet, I carry on.
I carry on with chronic pain pulsing through my limbs like it's got its own playlist. I carry on knowing full well there are people out there who want folks like me erased, silenced, legislated out of existence. And I still have to worry about rent. Groceries. Whether I remembered to add soap to my grocery list because I'm down to the last worn-down, odd-shaped sliver of bar soap.
It’s laughable. If I weren’t so damn tired.
But maybe that’s also the protest. Not the dramatic kind. Not the street-march, megaphone, tear gas kind (though full respect to those who roll deep). I’m talking about the Alt+Shift protest. The absurd protest. The folding-laundry-while-screaming-into-a-lavender-towel kind. The holding-it-together-with-a-busted hair tie and pure spite kind. The whisper protest. The burnt-out rebellion. The “I’m protesting by not answering that email” protest. The quiet refusal to vanish just because we’re too damn tired to be loud.
To be clear, I don’t have a call to action today. I don’t have a solution or a toolkit or a downloadable worksheet to help us survive the end of the world in five easy steps.
I’m just here to say...I still see you. If you’re also standing in the middle of the madness doing what you can, however small, however tired... you’re not alone. You’re not ridiculous. You’re not weak.
You’re just present. And still showing up.
Even if it’s just to fold laundry and scream into a towel. That counts too.
Anywho. Still here, hanging in with you in the absurd middle…and wearing clean undies. What can I say? A win is a win.
