I hated brushing my teeth growing up. You do it once and then you have to do it over and over and over and over and over again and then you DIE. Brushing my teeth triggered my first existential crisis. I lamented this a lot in college, like a leather jacket clad male film major trying to fuck a doe eyed freshman. One day I was sitting in the Chick-fil-a parking lot with my sorority sister, Kate, enjoying milkshakes after a long day of recruitment practice, fully back on my bullshit. Her response has stuck with me like no one else’s.
“I guess I just don’t understand that because I like brushing my teeth. I enjoy the feeling of it. It’s a satisfying task.”
Reader, I never considered Sisyphus might be happy.
Later in college I took a class about globalization and development. TL;DR a lot of parts of society we see as fundamentally American were just made up by people to sell products. It’s crazy! Suddenly, it became obvious. I had been conditioned to enjoy the feeling of brushing my teeth when some advertising executive in 1907 came up with the idea of minty fresh and now I spend $12 on Japanese toothpaste (life changing) because I have been conditioned to associate it with cleanliness and therefore godliness. I was furious, because I was a junior in college and like 3/4 of a Marxist at that point. Despite this newfound sense of enlightenment, I still brushed my teeth, mostly out of vanity, like Sisyphus begrudgingly noticing his toned biceps.
To not conform to society’s conventions is a righteous rejection of our capitalist overlords. The problem is when you conflate the version of self care that’s just buying shit with actually taking care of yourself. Capitalism wants to numb you while it works you to the bone. True self care mostly seems to be reparenting yourself; learning how to strike the balance of compassion to your present self and a sense of duty to who you want to be. It’s tempting to buy your way out of your problems, especially when no one taught you how to take care of yourself, but to do so is to perpetuate the infantilization. Therein lies the entire quest.
The first step is admitting you have a problem. I need to care more about my future self. I don’t know how to soothe myself and no one around me says the right things. It feels impossible to be a better version of myself. I’m doing the work myself, but now I’m tired and I still have so far to go. Humans are social creatures, and the logical next step is to find a community to continue to help you do the work. In other words, I want someone to take care of me.
Care doesn’t have to come from a partner, but it seems like that’s the easiest route in our present stage of life. Feminism tells you not to rely on men, and while there’s always saphism, there are very few conventional routes to security that don’t involve men. We are more isolated than ever, who can blame Gen Z for shacking up at record rates? It’s a great way to save on rent.
Of course, there are conditions to love. I’m constantly thinking about this Marge Piercy poem which starts out:
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I desperately want to be useful despite the fact it feels as if I am fundamentally incapable of it. My desire isn’t entirely altruistic— it’s been ingrained in me you are not worthy of compassion without use. It’s part of the reason chronic illness so humiliating. Everyone is supposed to be strong and independent. I will always rely on someone, therefore am valuable to no one and have nothing to offer in return. I’m sure of this because I can’t quantify my value and that’s all anyone around me seems to be doing. I can’t provide medical advice or code or sue someone or even explain the economy to you. How can I take up space without offering anything in return? Don’t we have to be valuable to be human?
We certainly don’t care for each other without complaint. AITA is convinced no one is their brother’s keeper and it’s difficult to blame them. Life is difficult, and the pandemic drew back the curtains on most of the artificial conditions that make it so. Workers are exhausted, CEOs are greedy, and we will continue to hang working people out to dry. Everyone has laptop jobs and no one is doing anything righteous. Are we shirking responsibility or are we acknowledging we have limits? Our brains are overstimulated, our backs are fucked, and our screens are calling; to care for someone else is to give up valuable energy you can give to yourself.
But life is always going to throw shit at you. Nassim Taleb explains his concept of antifragility using a Hydra: when one head is cut off, two grow back. It’s not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about using the storm to sail faster. Letting this radicalize you rather than lead you to despair.
I know it sucks to care when it seems like no one else does. It’s weirdly humiliating to realize you have invested more than your peers. Don’t let this stop you. It’s more important to show up and begin to believe you are worth investing effort on your own time in your own life. Learn to take care of yourself in the face of difficulty, to rely on others when you can’t do it yourself, to show up when the people you’ve chosen to love need it, and even some strangers on the street. Continue to care when society is throwing everything it can at you to get you to panic and freeze. Fight to find meaning in chaos. Continue to brush your teeth when you know you’ll have to do it again and again and again. This is the radical act.
It’s never ending and the light at the end of the tunnel is death. There’s nothing we can do and no one is immune. You can allow this to cripple you or you can accept this little quirk. It’s going to be exhausting. You’ve been ignoring reality for so long, and things are not looking great outside. Yet spring has still come. The garden is dead but weeds are beginning to grow. Feel the sun on your face while you kneel in the grass to inspect the sprouting bulbs and dance in the rainstorm that blew in a flash. Pay attention when strangers give up a seat on the bus, when they smile at babies when they think no one else is looking, when they choose to give something of themselves without expecting anything in return. There’s a world out there to tend to and you are going to be the one to do it. Show up. Believe you can make this place beautiful. Refuse to give up hope that one day the boulder won’t roll back, that long arc bends towards justice. Practice kindness without expecting any in return. Try and try again. Stop being embarrassed someone will notice you give a shit. You might just inspire them to give it a shot.
This week’s passage is one of Jenny Holzer’s inflammatory essays, which I love even if some of them have not aged well. You should embark on a quest for the perfect red lip and reread Harrison Bergeron. Happy Wednesday!