Newsletter from Jay Wilcox - December 2024: On Coming Down

Good morning/afternoon/evening,

Have you ever felt so terrible that you just wanted to hug a Wawa clerk? If so, would you describe this as a recent feeling, perhaps one that really settled in during November of this year?

I've long harbored anger as my default emotion. I reacted with rage to the 2016 election--a rage that followed me as I drove to work or mowed the yard, as I brushed my teeth at night. I thought in diatribes. I wished someone would try me. How can something corrosive feel so deceptively good? I picked fights on Facebook, addicted to the little red notifications flag, the pit in my stomach.

Anger itself is addicting.

I had a friend describe cocaine as a way of using all tomorrow's dopamine today. You'll wake up the next morning as a husk--and as I reflect on this election cycle, I wonder if I haven't similarly used up all my anger years before. Whatever rage remains has been scraped together from the bottom of the bag, a handful of crumbs and dust.

We should be angry. We should organize and march and build. For the moment, though, I just feel sad. On election night, I held my wife and promised her we'd make the best of the future. We'd laugh and play and feed our baby girl smushed beans. We have so much to look forward to! Still, in this garden of comforts, I only feel strong in a hug, and maybe that's the power of sadness. Angry me raises his fists. Sad me opens his arms.

I will never sing kumbaya. For me, sadness is anger's methadone--a way of coming down from some terrible high to a new and more empowered sobriety. If I'm to be strong, it's in communion. If I'm leaning, I'm leaning on the person beside me. We will be strong again. This is how we get there.

In the meantime, I hope you've been well.

Infinite Regards,

Jay