Ok, friends. I’m losing it over here: barely functioning during the day, crying at night, as I lie down to NOT sleep. You know, how one does in the Year of Our Lord 2025.
I’ve got to get a grip, man.
Last night, I was cuddled up on my husband’s chest and he was stroking my forehead–something that usually relaxes me into an immediate sleep–when he said, “Your mind is racing a million miles an hour.”
He was right. I’d been lying there, wide-eyed in the dark, thinking about all the ugliness I’d seen that day on the news, on social media, and in the course of my work. And, then (and this is worse), I was playing out every scenario to its inevitable apocalyptic ending. Thoughts of natural disasters, fires, mass incarceration, drought, starvation, cruelty, death, and nuclear war were ruining the normally calming effects of his touch.
I explained that I was afraid about all that was happening in the world and, to his credit, he simply acknowledged and affirmed my feelings. (Big steps for us, since he likes to try to “fix” things for me.) I asked him how it was that he could prevent scary things from preying on his mind.
“I just try to think of the next thing I can do, and focus on that,” was his reply. And, that reminded me of what my friends in recovery say, “Do the next, right thing.” I have relied on that simple edict before in life when things seemed overwhelming and so, it was nice to be reminded. I was able to drift off and woke today to try to narrow down ways that I can act (or, refuse to act) in light of all this… (gestures broadly at everything)
I’ve decided that my chosen areas of resistance will align with things that already align with my efforts to live out my own values. I wrote earlier in the week about how I struggle with numbing out via consumerism; whether that’s too much TV, too much shopping, too much scrolling. I have recognized for a while now that I am voluntarily giving my time and money to things that don’t necessarily promote living.
Inversely, when I do this, I am skimping on things that do fulfill me–things that are life-affirming. I want to create, to write, to help, to love. There are ways that I do this already, but by being more conscious, I can do so much more.
I have a project I’m working on that would bring healing to people and horses. It’s the most important thing I’m working on, but it’s been stalled (pardon the pun) because I’ve allowed the overwhelm in. By clearly distilling my “opt-outs and opt-ins,” I can more easily see where I’m putting my energy.
I have bigger ideas about starting a bartering group online, or organizing a general strike (haha- grandiose, much), but that sort of misses the point of prioritizing the work that is mine to do. So, here is what I’ve come up with so far, in terms of what is actionable and achievable for me:
10 Ways I Am Opting Out of Capitalism
I am buying less, but better. I (will) choose durable, ethical alternatives—or simply use what I already have.
I am breaking up with Amazon. (TBH, this one is harder than it should be.) I will buy directly from small businesses, mutual aid groups, or local makers instead.
I am rejecting the upgrade cycle. I don’t need the latest phone, car, or wardrobe refresh just because advertisers say so. (I wish I could jump to a dumb phone, but I’m not there yet.)
I am unsubscribing from impulse spending. I delete retail apps, unsubscribe from marketing emails, and resist the “treat yourself” trap, at least in terms of material goods. BTW, deleting these is a HUGE time-suck. I wish I’d have never given my email in exchange for “10% off your first purchase!!”
I am bartering, borrowing, and trading instead of buying new. Before spending, I ask: Can I borrow this? Trade for it? Get it secondhand?
I am refusing to let my job define me. I am more than my productivity or career title. (I’ve got this one on lock.)
I am slowing down my food. I (will) cook from scratch, support local farmers, and grow what I can—I asked Rog to give me a corner of the garden so I can test my skillz.
I am saying no to convenience culture. I walk or bike instead of driving when I can. I fix things instead of replacing them. I make my own coffee instead of feeding a corporation. (No problem for now, as I seem to never leave the house these days, but living in the sticks makes it difficult not to drive. But, I can quit Starbies! Also, Rog makes our coffee, but maybe we need to research our brand.)
I am unfollowing social media accounts that make me want to buy things. I resist influencer-driven consumerism and surround myself with content that inspires, not sells.
I am making instead of buying. Whether it’s sewing, baking, gardening, or building, I am reclaiming the joy of creating with my own hands. (You should see the insane blanket I’m crocheting: the edges are a complete mess, but I love it!)
10 Ways I Am Opting Into a Different Mindset
I am prioritizing relationships over transactions. I focus on genuine connections and mutual support, particularly when I think about my volunteer work and the work on
myour new project.I am celebrating enough. I don’t need more to be happy—I am practicing gratitude for what I already have. (Gratitude practice for me sometimes starts with post-it notes and prayers of “Thanks;” I like keeping it simple.)
I am thinking in terms of “us,” not just “me.” My choices impact my community, the planet, and future generations, so I choose wisely, or at least, I’m trying.
I am embracing rest as resistance. I refuse to believe my worth is tied to my productivity. I rest, slow down, and give myself permission to do nothing. (This is HARD; not doing nothing, as the peripheral depression is taking care of that, but the giving myself permission part.)
I am giving without expecting. I share my time, skills, food, and knowledge freely, without keeping score.
I am reclaiming my time. I work less when I can, set boundaries around my labor, and advocate for fair wages and worker protections.
I am learning from indigenous and ancestral ways of living. I seek out sustainable, communal, and reciprocal ways of life that existed long before capitalism. (Right now, I’m reading The Serviceberry; Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World by Robin Wall Kimmerer.)
I am thinking in cycles, not in lines. Instead of throwing things away, I repair, repurpose, and find creative ways to extend their life. (Folks doing this are the influencers I like to follow.)
I am redefining wealth. True wealth isn’t money—it’s health, friendships, wisdom, creativity, and connection to nature. I hate that health is tied to capitalism in the form of health insurance, but trying to take better care of myself is a way that I can combat that.
I am imagining a better world. Capitalism isn’t the only way to live. I am reading, discussing, and dreaming of alternative ways of working, thriving, and building community.