Diary Of A Dreamer In MAGA Country: Week 15

Truth and Dishonor

Originally Published on Medium

I submitted my address change with USCIS. I am trusting God, maybe foolishly, maybe hopeful. I’ve chosen a sage-lime green as the accent color for my new home; it’s bright and fresh. I need light and I need living.

What are we, if not just people living in their homes, day-by-day? Sure, the president is saying things that are wild but I need to potty train my kid. I don’t want to think about possible troops crossing the border into Mexico near my mother’s home so we mostly talk about what vitamins we should be taking to stop all our pain. Science says there is a strong connection between chronic inflammation and stress, trauma, and oppression. I’m sure turmeric can’t fix the constant presence of what-ifs I carry in my heart and I am sure whatever latest miracle cure, a Facebook doctor has told my mother about, can’t do anything either. But, we discuss it all.

I remind her to eat, as well as she can; food’s getting expensive. She reminds me to drink water. Mundane and wonderful. What would it mean to not have this? So many people don’t have this. I think of my father; his doctor calls him his “miracle man” because he has survived with a Glioblastoma for two and a half years now. I keep seeing screenshots of people on X explaining how NIH research is being defunded. I wonder what that will feel like when we are no longer living through miracles.

My father said he heard on the news that Trump is trying to be a dictator. As I shared what Daniel Tiger is all about, I told him about them wanting to defund PBS; he replied quickly with “ahh, entonces si es una dictadura”.

People say things online, fascism isn’t quite trending but things are rarely defined in the present. History will have specific explanations and dates listing the plans, the follies, and the triumphs. I am saving screenshots for history lessons. Death thrives when testimony fails; Lord. There is hope in living.

“Lo que va a pasar, va a pasar, pa que te matas.” — mi apa y mi ama.

I’m not very good at just living. I can’t sit down and let myself be free to think. My imagination is too strong. My algorithms are too painful right now. Let me hop on to Facebook and search house decor reels. I like Youtube for science videos. Commentary videos are slow during Love Is Blind off-season, but I have a few videos waiting for me to watch the latest Handmaids. I still need to hang up coat hooks by the side door. We need to plan house-warming visits. I need to set up my Xcel account. I can’t stop. I want to know, but I can’t keep listening. I need a break, but I can’t break free.

I can’t plan future vacations to see my mother. It’s been 11 years. I can’t wait for more miracles. I need to stock my pantry, not too much, but not too little. If I wait too long I’ll be sorry I ignored all the posts with empty port pictures. The judges are being jailed. Gaza is starving. Alcatraz. What a time to be alive! Will he become the pope? Find out on next week’s episode. Tune in! One day, this could make a good memoir; a miracle.

“…That gap, that enormous gap, is always there. One day we’re laughing at the comical side of life in hiding, and the next day (there are many such days), we’re frightened, and the fear, tension and despair can be read on our faces.”— Anne Frank

“Nothing can be more crushing than this anxiety. Let the end come, however cruel; at least then we’ll know whether we are to be victors or the vanquished.”— Anne Frank

“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness, I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too, I can feel the sufferings of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again.”— Anne Frank

Let’s have hope. I see a lot of changes — realizations are dawning. Maybe my paranoid shouts will be heard. It is still early, I think. I have anxiety, that’s hopeful in itself. I have soo much to care and worry for; that is a miracle. Some have had to lose all hope, all living, all miracles. Let our trust be an honor to their losses; the resistance noted by historians in the brighter world to come.

I am going to go sit down and play with Kal. He needs his mommy now, I’ve been writing for too long…

My child trying to squeeze into my office through the kitty door.

A reminder I needed this week:

Screenshot of post by @thenapministry