I have forever been an idealist. I think it’s what kept me going, made me resilient, in my childhood. After every beating, I would sit in a corner or in my closet and tell myself how much better things would be when I grew up. How I would be a better parent to my children. How I would be kinder, better, smarter. My idealism gave me hope, and my hope worked.

But my hope and idealism led to disillusionment later in my life. I had always thought that, since people are inherently good (and I still believe most people are), given the right circumstances–equality, education, hope–cultures, societies, and governments could be good.

I remember when I started to realize we were on our own, that there wasn’t a society or government that was going to be concerned about everyone’s well being. It was when we had Paul LePage as governor here in Maine. He had made heavy cuts to social services. And there was a little girl who was being abused by her parents. And her teachers reported it to the Maine Department of Health and Human Services over and over. But social services was backlogged. The little girl died. She was 10 years old, and I couldn’t stop crying for her or for the state of the world.

We are on our own. And we have to take care of each other.

One of my biggest realizations of this truth came from my understanding of the food system. The American food system is literally poisoning us. So we started growing our own food. Initially, I think we did it for our two children. We wanted them to eat better, but I realized recently, that it was for us as well. My little brother is dying, and I have learned that our health care system is failing in a way I could not have imagined. I have to take care of my body with exercise and good food because I have to do everything I can keep myself out of the health care system that exists for people in my income bracket. The doctors are burned out. The nurses are exhausted. It’s very difficult to get help if you need it.

Ron and I resist these systems as much as we can by growing food, canning food, freezing food, raising chickens, staying up late to process the beans because I had to work that day but the beans will go bad, Ron getting up early to water by hand so as to not waste water but keep the plants going. It’s all our act of resistance. It’s us realizing we are so much on our own that we cannot even trust the food at the grocery store.

We are on our own. And we have to take care of each other.

Why is our health care system broken? Why is our food system broken? I work in education. Let me tell you that our education system is definitely broken. Why is this?

I believe–no, I know–it comes down to the fact that there is an oligarchy in our country, and they are squeezing every last bit from us because we are nothing to them. They will poison us with fake food and then deny our health insurance claims when we are sick. And they know climate change is going to make things so much worse. And they know, there are so many of us and that, when resources get scarce, we might, might, might, start looking at the people hoarding the resources.

So they make us fight each other. They make sure we do not see our common ground. They want to make sure we hate each other. They want to take away love for each other. Our kindness. They do this by keeping us outraged and scared. It works so well.

I know you are tired. I am so, so tired.

We are in for challenging times, I think, especially if you do not agree with the party in power. Especially if you are able to see the truth, can see past the circus to what is really going on.

Look away if you need to. Look if you need to. Rest if you need to. Resistance comes in many forms.

It comes in the form of love, of taking care of each other, of remembering that we all have more in common that we do not. It comes in the form of growing food, raising chickens, supporting a small farm, buying gifts from local makers, reading books instead of social media posts, coming together for a concert in a barn, repairing that sweater instead of buying a new one, keeping your old phone, writing a poem, or buying jam from a local farm stand. If we can build a strong local economy, we won’t need theirs so much.

I know you are tired, but find your strength to love, to be open, to reach out to your neighbors, to give them some eggs, to celebrate together with music, to find community, even if it’s small. Some of these things are hard for the introverted, like myself, but I can see that we are on our own and that all we have are each other.

But, really, that’s a lot.

I know you are tired. Keep growing and making and loving those around you. We just have to pay enough attention to keep ourselves aware. I mean, keep that bird flu on your radar. Or don’t. I’ll keep it on mine and keep you posted.

History is full of hard times and resilient people. There are more of us than there are of them. Don’t let them divide us. Forgive those with good hearts who were led by lies because they were struggling. When we struggle, it’s easy to be taken advantage of.

I know you are tired. Please know I love you, all of you, and if I can help with advice on a sick chicken or the best ways to eat seasonally, let me know.

Sending light on this tough day. Let it not be as tough as I think it might be. That’s my prayer.

photo credit: Dyu-Ha, Unsplash