I really wish I could work out right now.
Injury Diaries, part three. Endorphin crash, existential dread, and trying to maintain sanity without my go-to coping mechanism.
I knew going into all of this that not being able to work out would be hard on my mental health. I’ve been something of an exercise junkie since my freshman year of college. Hard workouts — whether a sprint session, a mile run as fast I can manage, or heavy lifting — are how I work out my frustration and other difficult emotions. Moving helps me get out of my head. It offers physical release from the things that are weighing me down. And of course, there are the resulting endorphins, one of nature’s feel-good chemicals, scientifically proven to boost moods and relieve pain.
I could use some endorphins right now.
On Tuesday, when I went in for my post-op appointment with my surgeon, I wasn’t in the best head space. Over the weekend, I’d started following the news about a certain mega-billionaire and his team of unauthorized cronies gaining access to the nation’s Treasury, camping out in the building, and working around the clock to do who-knows-what to the people’s checkbook. This can’t be good. And the more I read, the worse it looked.
To make matters worse, on Sunday night, I picked up a book I’ve had on my shelf for a few years — Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich. The introduction gives a clear-eyed look at the rise of the Nazis in Germany (emphasis mine):
How did the Austrian Hitler become the German Fuhrer? In a provocative answer, Professor von Thadden said he sometimes plays a mental game of how the devil could come to power in different countries. In France, he said, a coup d’etat might be acceptable, but not in Germany. In the United States, he suggested, the devil might ingratiate himself to voters by taking on a facade of naivete, or somehow by taking materialism to the extreme. And in 1933 Germany, he said, the devil had to maintain the appearance of governmental legitimacy, of parliamentary procedure, of a Rechtsstaat [rule of law], no matter what he was plotting behind the scenes. …
Within a week [of Hitler being named chancellor], the Nazis fired Jewish German civil servants. So much for their Dienst [sense of duty or service]. A temporary exception was made for Jewish men who had fought for Germany at the front in World War I.
Within a month, the Nazis strangled the free press.
Within two months, they established the first concentration camp for the first inmates — political opponents.
They also passed a law taking over powers of legislation from the parliament and handing them to a Nazi cabinet. The law was called, understatedly, the Enabling Act. And it was the end of the Rechtsstaat.
At the start of the third month of power, on April 1, 1933, the Nazis instituted a boycott of Jewish-owned stores.
Shortly after that, all rival political parties and trade unions were banned.
Within half a year, then, while the Fatherland was looking flag-waving terrific on the surface, most of its democratic substructure had been replaced.
The parallels to the current administration are stark. Too stark. From how the devil could come to power in the U.S. (facade of naivete, check; taking materialism to the extreme, check) to the attacks on civil servants to favoring pseudo-journalism outlets that are in lockstep with the current administration and attacking the free press to expanding Guantanamo as a holding place for 30,000 undocumented immigrants (because that’s such an efficient use of taxpayer dollars /s/) to bypassing Congress in attempts to gut entire federal departments.
But the news on the richest man in the world and his access to the Treasury brought something new into focus. I wrote in my journal on Sunday night:
The thing that has seemed off to me about all the Trump stuff this time around (just over the last two weeks, sheesh) is how on the nose it all is. No trying to skirt around the parallels to Nazism — and the parallels are everywhere. Then there’s the theatricality of it: signing over a hundred executive orders on day one in an arena, not the Oval Office. It all feels like a show, some kind of performance.
Already, many of Trump’s executive orders were being challenged or walked back or placed on hold by federal courts, but no one had stopped Elon Musk.
What exactly I thought EM was doing on Sunday night I’m not so sure about now. The week has only made things more complicated and concerning. But where I was at on Tuesday when I showed up for my post-op was pretty much: no one’s stopping him; we’re screwed. All our bank accounts are going to be scraped empty.
I did my best to put on a friendly face at the doctor’s office and be in the moment. Then, my doctor gave his report. He told me, during the surgery, they found out that my ankle was worse than they thought. They removed a flap of cartilage and a bone spur. They found a spot — on the side where I’ve still had pain — that is bone on bone, which surprised them.
“We’re going to keep you off of it for another two weeks,” he told me, and then left me waiting in the room for a new cast.
I wasn’t surprised, at least not by the fact that I was on crutches for longer. The bone-on-bone discovery was and is kind of scary, but the reason I’m on crutches another two weeks is to give an opportunity for there to be more space between those bones and, he mentioned, to “let it bleed” which I think means they’re hoping some cartilage will start to form there.
But still being on crutches also means a longer time away from the gym, because my gym isn’t handicap accessible by any stretch of the imagination and the only equipment I would be able to use in my current state is upstairs.
So back to my apartment and my couch and my doomscrolling I went, trying to do some work, but mostly flipping between the gloom of BlueSky to the slightly more orange gloom of Substack to the schizophrenic pendulum of Instagram, where I decided my role was to share information, posting screenshot after screenshot of articles about what EM and company are doing in government data systems and the threat to our personal and national security, not to mention democracy itself. I’m sure my followers think I’m insane.
The rest of the week, I’ve been struggling to look away from what’s playing out in D.C. I’m deeply, deeply concerned about the state of our nation, the integrity of the separation of powers, what EM is doing with our data and our governmental agencies, and how far all of this is going to go.
At the same time that I’m probably dealing with endorphin withdrawal because I haven’t worked out in 11 days, I’m also overwhelmed with concern about things that I have extremely limited control over but will impact me and everyone I know.
I’ve been trying to remind myself: Information is only useful if it leads you to action. If it paralyzes you, you can’t do any good. But what action can I take when I can barely get around? (Someone with a real long-term disability, feel free to call me out.)
Other than calling my senators, the only thing I really feel able to do right now is share information, particularly about the EM stuff and what funding cuts to particular agencies mean for the everyday American. But sharing information requires consuming information, and the amount of information I’m consuming is making me feel perpetually overwhelmed and paralyzed. So what can I do?
I knew going into this that I would feel the lack of endorphins in my system, especially as the days stretched on. Leading up to my surgery, I had a strategy: lean hard into my creative hobbies. I have no shortage of them. Now, they’ve become more than just a way to make up for the mental effects of not being able to work out. They’re critical coping mechanisms.
Sunday, I journaled.
Monday, I played piano for about an hour before bed.
Wednesday, I continued knitting a sweater I started a few weeks ago.
Thursday, I read a book, one not as heavy as Frauen, and got into a flow state writing some entries for my church’s Lent devotional.
I also have a long-term embroidery project to turn to whenever I’m tired of knitting, and I’ve been listening to music to help myself relax, especially instrumentals, especially before bed.
All of these things — music, handcrafts, art, reading books — can trigger the release of endorphins and other happy chemicals, and let me tell you, I’ve felt the difference. Getting away from screens always results in a calmer mind and body, but these activities take me a step further. It’s like they’re actively restoring my brain. I can get out of the rut of doomscrolling, feel more grounded, and catch a glimpse of hope.
I have a feeling we’re each going to need to be more intentional in what we do to take care of our minds in this new chapter. We can’t neglect to be informed by credible sources, nor can we neglect the on-the-ground work to foster community where we are and preserve democracy. But these things can be engaged while also pursuing joy and beauty. We need art, we need humor, we need story. These things help us remember that there is more to reality than what we might experience in our day-to-day and there are other ways to exist. They are crucial to the human spirit.
Pippi Longstocking is the strongwoman we didn’t know we needed
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I have a very special invitation for you. Who will challenge the Mighty Adolf in a wrestling match? Which of you dares to try his strength against the World’s Strongest Man?”
Recommended Reading
This week, it’s all books that can speak to our time:
Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi
A literature professor in Iran meets with students in her home to read and discuss banned books as women’s rights and academic freedom are stripped away.
Orwell’s Roses by Rebecca Solnit
An exploration of George Orwell’s life and work and his love of superfluous beauty. What good is beauty in a time of chaos? According to this book, it might just be the thread we need to hold onto as we pursue a better world.
All the Frequent Troubles of Our Days by Rebecca Donner
The story of an American woman who was active in the German resistance and was ultimately executed for treason by the Nazis.
A Woman of No Importance by Sonia Purnell
An American woman with a wooden leg spying for Britain in France during World War II.
In the meantime, I also recommend purchasing a Wired subscription. It’s only $10 a year, and they’ve been ahead of the curve in reporting on EM and what he’s doing in our federal information systems. As of this writing, they’ve reported that a threat intelligence team from within the Treasury Department have named the DOGE team an “insider threat” to the Bureau of Fiscal Service.
This article from Slate is helpful in thinking about how we’re handling our stress: Why We Get Bossier When Everything Feels Terrible
A must-read on resisting fascism from
: Trump Can Be StoppedWhat’s coming next?
God only knows. Maybe I’ll write about pullups.
Meredith Sell: thank you for your shout out re my book Frauen/ German Women Recall the Third Reich. Chillingly relevant in so many ways. I too think of the parallels, including self-imposed emotional blindness by The Followers.