New Year, Same Crippling Anxieties!

Happy 2022! Or is it 2020, too? The years really do zip by faster the more years lived, a smaller percentage of the whole. I can barely keep up with it all.

As this beautiful blue marble orbits the sun once more, I’m more aware of the immoveable burden resting on my heart than ever before. It has been sitting on my chest for quite some time, and I am making peace with the fact that it will most likely stay with me for all of my years, however many they may be. As long as I am conscious, I will be pondering the ethical questions surrounding motherhood and childbirth in a time when we are working too far slowly to change our disastrous planetary trajectory.

The fact remains that I am selfish. I have to repeat that fact to myself every time I feel the baby fever rise and imagine Jack and I welcoming a new soul into our lives, a tiny baby bundle of joy, the living embodiment of a love and a soul-bond that I know will never die. “I want to be a mother.” What a weak, selfish justification. Frankly, I don’t know that my child would want to live on this dying planet. And even if there were more reasons to be optimistic about the future, like the advent of safe nuclear fusion (check out MIT’s most recent work using super magnets to contain a nuclear fusion reaction), or the widespread rebuilding of our electrical grid so that it is thoroughly decarbonized, the fact remains that no one is born with consent. The fact remains that, even though I fruitlessly engage with climate deniers and try to get my message of action and collaboration out to as many people as possible, I am not making any headway and I probably never will. And even if I were successful, that doesn’t mean I’m at all worthy of propagating my genes to the next generation. There is nothing particularly special about me. I would simply be contributing to overpopulation.

I sit in an interesting position where most of my female friends and acquaintances either do not want to procreate, or are undecided. Of my six bridesmaids, four definitively do NOT want children (not even to adopt), one is on the fence, and one definitely does want to give birth. If I take a more expansive look at my friend circle, this ratio evens out a bit, but more people still skew toward the childless lifestyle. There are plenty more years ahead for the future to be remade, but looking at this current assemblage of people closest to me, it seems we’ll be aging out quietly, with no noise or chaos of small humans growing to adulthood and fulfilling the important roles we will grow too old to continue carrying out. It makes me sad to think about it, but it makes me guilty for wanting to bring in children of my own just to assuage my generational loneliness. I am selfish, I am selfish, I am selfish.

What can I possibly do to make the world more livable, more cooperative, and more sustainable? I write, I volunteer, I work a position that actively tries to safeguard the environment and the natural resources we need most: water, clean air, biomass in all its many forms. My professional life is dedicated to the cause as is my spare time, my personal choices, and my private internal struggles. And it really doesn’t matter how much effort I put into serving other people today and serving future generations tomorrow. I am selfish at the root of it all. I want to carry Jack’s children in my womb, birth them and meet them Earth-side, watch them grow, give them guidance, love, and affection. But there will be no guarantee of safety, or even a guarantee of access to drinkable water come 2050, especially if we’re still living in the arid west. I can willingly give my life over to my offspring, but I cannot give them an entirely new planet, one undamaged by extractive capitalism and overconsumption. Biosphere 2 demonstrated that the extent of human ingenuity is limited, and that we are too unsophisticated to reproduce something as complex as Earth. We are killing our only home, spreading and consuming like locusts. It’s hypocritical for me to want to continue populating a system that cannot provide for all of us, especially since I very well know better.

I recently re-watched Titanic. Wow, what a film. I personally love it and think it held up quite impressively in the 25 years since its release in 1997. It hit especially hard this time, comparing the disaster to climate change. Our Earth ship is sinking and there are still so many loud, violent, obnoxious (in my personal experience) MEN who are clinging to the railing as the icy water washes over the deck screaming that it’s a pleasant voyage and that everyone trying to avoid a watery grave is a brainwashed idiot. There is no convincing them to be a part of the solution. There is no releasing them of their own fear and emotional immaturity. They staunchly insist they are correct in the face of the very real, overwhelming evidence unfolding before our eyes that no, Earth is not okay. Species are dying orders of magnitude faster than the normal background extinction rate documented in the geologic record. But sure, go off on how I’m a demonic liberal (haha) for daring to use the phrase “climate change denier”. I think “ecocidal future-child murderer” is more accurate. It is significantly more harsh, sure, but drives the point home that their factual incorrectness is costing the lives of all humans who will inherit an overheated, utterly cooked planet. Their decision to repeatedly, shamelessly lie is morally reprehensible. Lying is a choice, not a personality trait, and certainly not a birth defect. I have zero qualms about verbally lambasting these liars. If they don’t want to help bail water, fine. But the least they can do is stand off to the side out of everyone’s way.

These posts really are just an opportunity for me to shout into the void and to vocalize my existential dread. I cry at the drop of a hat. These first three weeks of 2022 have been especially rough for my mental health and even though I show up to work every day, even though I teach my dance classes at night, and volunteer at the fire department, and most recently appeared as a guest speaker on The Everything Else Show with Martin Willis to discuss my message of climate action (while we still have time to act), I feel like none of it matters. None of it amounts to the changes we so desperately need to make as a species. I believe in ripple effects, absolutely, but I am a weak, limited, emotionally fragile woman who will likely worry herself to an early grave. Perhaps I will survive longer than I give myself credit for. It is, after all, written into our very DNA as living creatures that we strive to survive for as long as possible. The ship is sinking, but we’re still trying to avoid the water at all costs, to avoid slipping into the freezing North Atlantic. Refusing to live in the face of certain devastation is not the answer. The answer is to alter the way in which we produce energy. And even though it’s a simple answer, there is no political will or emotional fortitude to accomplish such a change. Any attempt made to alter viewpoints is met with hostility and vitriol, even as the threat looms right in our faces. We cannot work together even to defeat a common enemy. It breaks my heart. It breaks my brain. It saps my energy. I give and give and somehow my cup refills enough for me to make it through the day over and over, but it accomplishes nothing. I accomplish next to nothing.

I suppose it’s unfair to title this post “New Year, Same Crippling Anxieties!” I am not crippled. I still function. I have a support network where many people have no one and nothing to lean on. It is, once again, my privilege that allows me to take time out of my schedule to write these pointless posts. My words convince no one and largely go unread, but here I am, back on my bullshit, talking about my feelings to no one but a glowing computer screen. And even that’s not true. Jack listens to my dread and my anger, holds me when I cry, kisses away the rage and despair. I often pick up my phone and am able to call any number of my closest friends, and always they open their heart to me and lend their undistracted ears. Even though my very worth as a human feels tenuous at best, I have so many people that I love who love me right back. I live for them, I live for my two dogs, I live for the hope of a brighter day when we take longer, stronger strides toward solutions that benefit the greatest number of people in a time when severe weather events become more frequent and destructive. If everyone took it upon themselves to relentlessly speak up about the greatest threat to our existence, perhaps we might have a shot at reversing our actions and stabilizing the atmosphere. We each hold the agency needed to choose a decarbonized lifestyle and work toward passing down this beautiful home to our children and grandchildren. Every voice matters, no matter how small or timid, no matter how broken and raw. I am largely useless in the face of it all, but I will roar (or perhaps I’m just screaming) until I draw my last breath.