It’s 5pm. My head is throbbing, my eyes are strained. I double check my email for any last minute “Hey, I hate to do this but…”, and I close my laptop. My bag feels heavy, and so do I.
My left pinky toe buzzes with tinges of pain from my close-toed tan heels that are just one millimeter too small. The bottom of my bra cuts into my lower chest. Adjusting, I am preparing myself for a 20-minute drive home. I remind myself to be grateful to have clothes, a car, and a job. Some days I find myself wondering if this is all that life has to offer–another step in the quest for financial stability. It’s conflicting. I am so grateful that I can work and make money, but I am angry that we must continue moving through our days like normal while so much turmoil occurs around us.
On my drive home, I often think about my day or what I am going to have for dinner, but some days I struggle to stop myself from thinking about the current state of America. Saying that feels surface-level. I am sure you share the same sentiment. It was one of these days where the anger and frustration was gnawing at my core. My brain was swirling with indignation when I saw a familiar sight– over I-40 on the American Tobacco Trail Bridge were a group of protestors. Not only do they have large, colorful signs that spell out phrases such as “FREEDOM 4 ALL” and “PEOPLE OVER PROFITS, but these protestors stand on that bridge for hours waving American flags to all the passersby. It may seem small to some, or reprehensible to the many who do not agree, but this “small” act reminds me of community. Getting stuck in the thought spiral feels lonely and isolating. When I look up at those protestors on the bridge. I remember we’re not alone. There are thousands of people who feel the way we do.
It reminds me to not take what I have for granted. Living in America right now feels like we take one step forward and ten steps back, but I have found that the little things make huge differences. With that being said, I would like you to reflect on these three items when the world feels too big: what am I grateful for? How can I support my community in a way that feels meaningful? How can I seek to understand those who choose not to understand me?
I am not saying we do not deserve to be angry. Justice is not always merciful. But in times where you are stuck in the car with your brain and your painful pinky toe, I hope you remember that your community is all around you–you just have to look up.
