Anxious about the election? Here’s how I’m coping
I am guessing many of you are in the same condition in which I find myself: uneasy, drenched in anxiety and layered with dread — a flaky napoleon of neurosis. If you aren’t feeling this way, congratulations; I’ll have what you’re having. But for the rest of us, the wait is interminable, the uncertainty all-consuming, the stakes immense.
Which is worse: not knowing the outcome of the election or knowing it? The answer to this question does not matter, because the calendar is implacable. Its pages turn with maddening languor, the taunting opposite of oldtime movies.
In situations like this, the behavioral therapists counsel “radical acceptance”: acknowledging not only the difficulty of the problem but also the impossibility of controlling the result. For me, a big believer in agency and will, this is the hardest notion to accept, and even harder to put into practice.
Of course, it is better than good — it is imperative — to work for change. In this case, that means working for your candidate, if you are a partisan with the conviction and the bandwidth to do so. Please, get out the vote. Knock on doors. Phone bank. Write a check, then another.
But we must also recognize that there is a rational basis for our fear. Never in our lifetimes — perhaps never in the history of our country — have the stakes been so high and the conclusion so uncertain. To practice radical acceptance means to understand that not everything can be known and not everything can be changed.
So, how can we make it through this agonizing stretch? For one (and with apologies to my talented and hardworking political reporter colleagues), stop reading. Put down this column if you are holding it in a physical newspaper. If you are reading it online, log off. (Well, finish reading, but then log off.) And — sorry, Joe and Mika — turn off the cable news after you’ve gotten a microdose. More isn’t better; it’s just anxiety-producing.
Whatever you do, stop with the polls. My husband pores over them when he wakes in the morning and before he goes to bed at night. He might as well be examining goat entrails for signs of what the gods have in store.
The polls can only reaffirm what you already know: This election is too close to call. No matter how many averages you see, how many battleground state results you click on, how many crosstabs you analyze — you will not know. In this situation, more data is the antithesis of helpful. The more you consume, the sicker you will feel.
Instead, immerse yourself in long features about anything but politics. Better yet, read a novel, and don’t hesitate to go trashy. If not now, when? Binge TV — no, not “The West Wing,” but something entirely removed from the here and now. If you haven’t devoured “Slow Horses,” about a crew of cast-off British spies, this is a good time.
Exercise is good; exercise in nature is even better. Go on a bike ride. Leave your neighborhood and find a wooded path, preferably one with an accompanying stream, to walk the dog. I love a good podcast, but leave your AirPods behind. Listen to the birds instead. It is scientifically proven that being in nature improves physical and mental health. It reduces levels of cortisol, the stress hormone.
Choose this out-of-control moment to control what you can. Do a jigsaw puzzle (the laser-cut wooden ones are particularly gratifying). Bake some crusty bread and slather on the butter; this is a moment for comfort food. The younger generation talks about the importance of self-care, and never has that been more fitting. Do yoga, book a massage, listen to music. Whatever works for you.
For my part, I knit, compulsively: Right now, I am racing to finish a baby blanket for the daughter of a friend. Her baby boy is due to arrive three weeks after the election, proof that joy will resume no matter the outcome.
Perhaps that is the right place to end. In my view, a second term for Donald Trump would be a catastrophe, but as we brace for that possibility, it does not serve us well to catastrophize it. There will be weddings to celebrate and grandchildren to cuddle in a Trump presidency. Democracy will be battered and bruised, but I am confident it will survive. This might be the most nerve-racking election, but it will not be the last one.
Washington Post Writers Group
