Taking care order of operations
On making it through these times
Morning darklings,
The other day, I was up at 5:45am dyeing my hair. I had planned to sleep in, but by 4:45, my body demanded I be out of the bed. It seemed like a perfect time to get such a task out of the way. My hair would be done and dusted before the hubs even woke up—like the joke in Gilmore Girls when Lorelai and Sookie discussed waking up and brushing their teeth before sneaking back in bed during the early days of a relationship (something I definitely never did).
The bleach was on when I opened YouTube. I wanted a calming springtime music video in the background. I wanted to do a few stretches, pick up my art room, put the pile of clean laundry away before the cats roly-polyed on it and made it unclean.
That's when I saw what the dictator pretending to run this country had done. Whether we are or aren't at war in a strictly legal sense is a moot point when it comes to the damage, the trauma, the pain, the deaths, the horror. And to be sure, we are at war. What Donald Trump can and can't do is irrelevant, simply because he follows his whims without thought of the word legal, without worrying about the order of operations or permissions needed.
Remember that he was found guilty in a civil case for sexual battery and defamation after an accusation of rape, which is paramount to a conviction to rape. 16 women had accused him of some kind of sexual assault or rape before the end of 2019. I believe the count is up to nearly 30. He was accused of sexual assault (and therefore pedophilia) by a thirteen-year-old girl in 2016. The Trump-Epstein Files hadn't been released yet, and already, women and girls were being brave and telling their stories. And remember that he defied Congress already in regards to the release of those files. And darklings, this doesn't even touch the financial crimes, the election issues, the fucking insurrection. I'm not a political analyst, though. I don't have the bandwidth to go that deep.
I just wanted you to be reminded about who it is we're dealing with. Because legal or moral aren't words that matter to him. He'll bomb without thinking. He'll assume he's above consequences. Because, so far, he kind of has been. He'll share a map marked with US flags like it's Game of Thrones and he's plotting his next strike (which fuck us, he might be) in a poorly lit photo taken in what looks like the back area of a craft fair. He will fall asleep. He will send his blonde idiot to say whatever to try and gaslight us.
But we can't fall apart. We can't.
I'm not saying it's time to pull up your bootstraps or fake-it-til-you-make-it. Nor am I saying that it's treat-yourself-o'clock or that you should turn off the news or avoid the topic altogether. If that's what you need to stay healthy, then, okay make it so, as Picard would say. Whatever comes of that is yours to deal with.
What I think is that we need to take care of ourselves in a very real and tangible way. Little treats or avoidance may help temporarily, but that's not a longterm solution.
While some Americans are being fleeced, while kids are being sucked into social media like it's a Dementor, while ads are eerily close to what you talked about five seconds ago and you can no longer tell if the email you just got was from a real person or AI until you look up the image to see if it's a stock photo, while life still moves on, we must put our masks on. And this time, I'm not talking COVID-style. It's the airplane metaphor or bust.
My infusion nurse told me they have an order of operations that goes: me, us, them.
In nursing terms:
Me—I must take care of myself first. Otherwise, how can I help someone else?
Us—The other nurses or doctors or caretakers. More helping hands gets more work done.
Them—With the nurses at their best (given the situation), they can help the patient who cannot help themselves.
In current terms:
Me—I must take care of myself first. Otherwise, how can I take care of someone else?
Us—Anyone who takes care of me, lifts me up, those closest to me, the strongest of people you know.
Them—With me and those around me at their best (given the situation), we can help those who cannot, those who are vulnerable, those who aren't mentally able to cope, those who have lost or are losing.
What comes next is out of our hands. Next week, there could be a ceasefire. We're back to hearing about another war Trump stopped. Hooray, he did the thing. Or we could hear about things happening here, around the corner. And every other possibility in between.
Dwelling on that won't fix anything.
All we can do is take care. Find things that calm our nervous systems—be that watching junk TV or going on walks or pickleball. Check in with friends and family. Learn new things to keep our mind sharp. Fill our bodies with nutritious food and water. Sleep when we can. Find time to be alone with our thoughts. Put our money where our mouths are, and support local, small, direct. Cancel subscriptions with shitty companies. Donate if we can. Keep an eye on what's really going on—look for news sources we trust. (The Associated Press is still fairly bipartisan and has a Live Updates section for moments like this). Despite the need to know it, make sure we don't lose ourselves in the dark either. Practice mindfulness. Practice patience. Practice discernment in all things. Practice restraint. And most importantly, be who you expect others to be. Show compassion and kindness and love. Give grace.
These are uncertain times, ones that make creativity seem both deeply unimportant and extremely needed. I hope you allow for moments of joy without judgement or permission.
If those in power need no permission to do the dark, we need no permission to do the light.
Personally speaking, I've started writing again and made a few new periodicals. I've also spent many hours dissociating and crying. Whatever my body needs, I'm trying to give it.
Together, we can get through this.
a section about the Animal Noir authors
Tonight is the first of two in-person readings for Animal Noir.
In the wake of all that's happening, I'm caught in that space of thinking this is frivolous and absolutely necessary. But I know that it's part of taking care of me, and so many others see it that way too, so I'm looking forward to it.
Please join us, will you?
In the meantime, here's one more art piece! <3
The star of my little story in Animal Noir, Ian.
— Pen Anderson (@pensiv.art) February 24, 2026 at 1:46 PM
[image or embed]
Also, Megan Lee Bees is publishing her first novella on April 1st! If you know me, you know my phobia. So I will be linking it HERE instead of adding it as an image link. Please support her because she's a wonderful writer and person and artist. But also because I can't read it to tell her how good it is (which I have no doubt that it is—I edited her story in Animal Noir after all)!
Finally, happy birthday Sir SDP! You've been such a wonderful friend over the years, and I'm grateful that, through all the time and distance, we've kept in touch.
If anyone wants to show him the love he deserves, pop over and listen to an album that may or may not have a little me in it. Where, when, how? Dunno. Maybe I'm lying to get you to listen. Either way, go enjoy this album, this other albums, and also his solo work—The Monologue Bombs.
Until next time, harness the Little darknesses and embrace the Little things.
