On the election, mental health, and a matter of great historical import

I need all of you to know something very important: never once in my life, nay, never once in the entire history of the human race, have the Democrats lost a Presidential election the day after I got a Platinum trophy in a PS5 game. It hasn’t happened once.

That is as optimistic as I intend to get. I was burned hard by 2016, as many of you were, and I’m refusing to hope, like, at all right now. I intend to go into tomorrow night being surprised by even the slightest scrap of good news. I can’t afford hope right now. I just can’t.

Minerva Grey asked me this in comments yesterday:

I am curious and a bit afraid to ask because I don’t want to run the risk of being talked into it, but how is watching election returns not detrimental to mental health? It strikes me as doomscolling and hopescrolling combined, and the likelihood of a definitive answer in the wee hours of Wednesday morning (at least on the U.S. east coast) seems highly unlikely.

First, let me be as clear as I can that, while I will be either on my couch or at my desk tomorrow, likely scrolling and reloading on my phone, my iPad, and a laptop simultaneously while watching one or more cable stations, that is because I am insane, in a way entirely different from my actual diagnosed mental illness. I mainline the news during elections, presidential and midterm. I have been like this since I was a teenager, and at 48 I’m not interested in swapping out those particular stripes. I will likely be up very late tomorrow night, and when I finally go to bed it will only be so I can go to sleep and open the news right the hell back up. For me, not throwing myself into as many news sources as I possibly can during that time is what’s going to drive me crazy. I can’t ignore an event of this magnitude. If you can, and if that will help you get through the next 48 hours, I enthusiastically recommend you turn absolutely everything off and do whatever you need to do. I took personal days tomorrow and Wednesday because I know myself and I don’t need to be around my students while I’m stressing this hard. But not watching everything as it comes in is not going to help me.

And while I really don’t want to make any predictions, I actually do think we’re going to have an answer tomorrow night, if not perhaps in the wee hours of the morning, or at the very least we’re going to have some results that point rather conclusively at one answer rather than another. I think when I do go to bed I will have a pretty strong idea of who the winner is going to be, and while there will absolutely be all sorts of litigation afterward, I don’t think it’s going to go much of anywhere.

Of course, I know nothing about politics, and I am wrong all the time, so you don’t need to pay too much attention to that last paragraph, and if we lose via court shenanigans the thing that happens next, where I kill God and leave his body on the steps of the Supreme Court, has absolutely nothing to do with me having made a prediction that some heavenly being, I’m not specifying which one, decided to make cataclysmically wrong, probably out of pure spite.

(I’m taking some refuge in the fact that Joe Biden is President right now, and I’m reminded of something Andrew Jackson once said about another Chief Justice named John: “John Marshall has made his decision, now let him enforce it.”)

Writing postcards tonight

I’m sitting here writing addresses on a stack of 200 postcards, and I can’t decide if I’m proud of myself for starting so early– they want them mailed on October 24th– or pissed that I put it off for so long, since I’m sure they’ve been sitting on my desk for a month by now. Probably a little bit of both?

At any rate, I’m more or less taking the night off tonight, because every time I touch something electronic I start doomscrolling and I don’t need it. I can’t do anything about anything that happens in Florida tonight, and watching the utter idiots who appear determined to livestream themselves drowning in their own homes tonight is not helping my mood or my mental health. Therefore: postcards, and once my handwriting starts to suffer I’m going to spend the rest of the night with a book. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Let’s see how long this lasts

I have deleted TikTok, Twitter and Tweetbot— yes, I had two different apps just for Twitter– from my phone. My plan is to leave them gone for a week; my hope is that I can make it through my coffee tomorrow morning. My phone rather helpfully asked me if I wanted to cancel my $5.99 yearly subscription to Tweetbot, which I actually declined; it re-ups next week, which kind of entertains me.

I’m trying to cut down on the amount of free-floating dread and hate I have in my life, you see. Twitter is a prime contributor to this, although TikTok definitely has its moments, and although I feel like both services are useful to me in certain ways– Twitter, in particular, is the source of most of my news nowadays– I just need a detox for a while. I need free-floating existential dread to have less of a death-grip on my brain and every time I open Twitter up I am reminded how fucking awful everything is.

Note that I’m not even going cold turkey on the service– I literally have it open on my second monitor as I’m typing this, the second monitor that I have on my desk more or less specifically for Twitter. I’m just keeping it off my phone, to cut down on those moments where I realize I’ve lost an hour to mindless scrolling. I mean, hell, I’ve stopped typing this post three or four times because something shiny scrolled by, so maybe I’ll ditch that too. But baby steps, right? Right.