Tonight Rise and Resist staged a protest against the White Supremacist values of this current administration. I was supposed to marshal, but hit the wall.
I'm finding, the longer I'm part of the resistance, the more I get to that point. When there's nothing left to give. When I have no words, no energy, no inspiration.
I generally have more than plenty of all of the above. But this constant, continual, chronic fight is frying my soul.
Some days I am so on it and in it. Other days tears sting my eyes and I can only quietly sit, recharging for the next meeting/protest/action, wondering if I'll find my way back to the fight.
Instead of heading to Grand Central, I went to yoga. I breathed and moved and balanced a bit. After class, I turned on my phone to find 10 marshals had been arrested. I spent the next hour and a half texted and messaging whomever I could, to get answers and trying to help, feeling guilty the entire time that I wasn't there.
This activist life is so many things. So many layers. So many possibilities. So many personalities. So many things taken for granted to now reexamine. So many questions. So many unknowns. So much stress. So much frustration and angst and pain at times.
But, I'm hoping tomorrow I'll wake up with my inner activist back on track. There's work to do.
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