They say that procrastination is a form of anxiety, though I’m not sure if you can call what I’ve been experiencing “procrastination.” Paralysis might be more accurate. It’s a combination of decision fatigue, fear of disapproval and of failure, and a lack of motivation. When at work or in my free time, I can think of dozens of topics to write about. I’ve been inspired to start podcasts and YouTube channels. I get excited for the prospect of creation and sharing something that people will enjoy.
But when it comes time to sit down and create, I compose a big, fat, nothing.
My fingers sit still on my keyboard, like a monument to inaction. My brain races through proposal after proposal, finding reason after reason to check them off the list.
For those who know me, you know I have an opinion about pretty much everything. When I was younger, I used to be much more vocal and animated about sharing those opinions. Through experience I have learned, however, that people don’t really care what you think, you’re not going to change their mind, and if you do anything, you’ll probably just make them angry at you.
Past experiences have almost tipped me too far in the other direction. I’m almost too reluctant to share my opinions now. When at work I carefully feel out the room to get a sense of how everyone is thinking before I speak, often severely tempering my true opinions or expressing none at all, rather than creating conflict. When on rounds with a physician, this tactic has granted me acceptance with open arms onto a team on which I was a stranger only a few months ago. However, I have often avoided making recommendations or pointing out things that are wrong for fear of upsetting the team dynamic.
I also find myself censored on social media more often than I care to admit. It will come as no surprise that I lean to what is currently the left of center politically in our country, which has made opinion-sharing in my majority-hard-right community particularly difficult. Avoiding politics, most people are pleasant, friendly, and helpful. But bring up anything that pits Left vs. Right and most people become vicious animals whose only desire is to “win.” Any love or concern previously shown can be wiped away in an instant, with only the words, “I voted for…”
I used to relish in these conflicts. I would spend hours on social media in comment threads and would start plenty of my own. Part of this originated as a kind of evangelism for the truth, as I saw it. It has always been difficult for me to stand by and watch a perceived injustice occur. With a little maturity, however, I realized how pointless this can be. All it usually achieves is getting my own blood pressure elevated and alienating others, further entrenching the divide that exists. But still, sitting back and doing nothing eats at me on the inside. The voice inside my head tells me, “You can’t let that go.” My frustration builds and builds until eventually I have a mini-outburst on social media.
Another part of this paralyzing fear comes from the other side of the political aisle. First, let me be clear that I consider myself an “ally” and I recognize my privilege. This is not an attack or a denial of the struggles of women and people of color. Nevertheless, the “Left” is often just as vicious as the right. Opponents of “wokeness” on the right have long decried “cancel culture” as extreme sensitivity and an overreaction, claiming it would lead to the complete destruction of our freedoms, particularly of speech. I used to think that was wrong, but shreds of validity in those arguments have begun to appear.
The recent resignation/firing of Teen Vogue editor Alexi McCammond illustrates how out of control this has become. She was forced to quit after old tweets, which she disclosed in the interview process, surfaced and became a focus of criticism among the Teen Vogue staff. The uproar continued until McCammond and Teen Vogue separated.
My problem with this has nothing to do with what she said. We all should be accountable for our actions and words. My problem is that she admitted these tweets were wrong, apologized, did not try to hide them, and, most importantly changed and no longer espouses those views or rhetoric. She did what we expect someone to do when they did wrong, yet she was still punished. Is the goal to rid the world of problematic discourse, or is it simply to punish for the sake of punishment? It seems to me like the price paid here by McCammond was simply not proportional to her actions.
I am reminded of the quote from Jesus, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” Famously, no stones were cast because everyone is guilty. Every person who has ever used the internet has likely said something offensive, intolerant, racist, or something they would like to take back. To me, growth and forgiveness should be the goal, not punishment. Don’t get me wrong, when someone is unrepentant and continues to spout off racist views, they should be “cancelled.” But when someone admits they were wrong and demonstrates change, it is equally unjust to prospectively punish them for it.
In days before the internet and cell phones, things were not so thoroughly documented. People are not any more racist or intolerant now than they ever were, it’s just that people’s words exist forever and are never forgotten. In a world where every sin is catalogued, none of us are clean. I’ve always had a particular sense of justice, but it has changed over the years. If someone were to dig up my old writings, I am certain one would find plenty of things I would be ashamed of today.
As I sit with fingers frozen on my keyboard, this bombardment from both the left and the right has almost completely zapped by desire to speak. Both sides have become so intolerant it is impossible to say anything without offending someone somewhere. It’s not an ideal situation for anyone. For me in particular, as someone who used to listen to things like Sean Hannity and “The Brownfield Report,” and believed most of it, but now sees the folly in those programs, I am left in this state of limbo. I feel distanced from my hometown and those around me because I cannot agree politically with most of that ideology, but culturally and spatially, I am too far away from the urban, liberal centers to truly have any engagement there. And so, I am in a difficult spot, from my perspective. If I want to share my political opinions, I risk alienating my family, friends, and local community. If I do share, I will feel better for a short time, but I know I will never truly have friends who share those views or live in a place colored Blue. It’s a paralyzing, disconcerting feeling of isolation.
My strategy for dealing with this changes on a daily basis. Some days I give in and write a provocative blog post or Facebook status. Other days I try to straddle the line and make things appealing to both sides (which is nearly impossible). And then most days, I just say nothing.
I don’t know if or when I’ll ever settle on a definitive strategy. Maybe one day, when I’m 70 and I’ve finally paid off all of my loans and have saved enough money to retire, I can say what I want. At that point, I won’t have to worry about being fired from a job or making anyone mad. But, at that point, no one would listen anyway; I’ll just be a grouchy old man. Which, I guess, won’t really be much of a change!
