Making Space for Volcanoes
“It’s a myth that you need to be really screwed up to do good art.”
In Jenny Slate's first stand-up special out on Netflix this month, she begins to talk about what going through her divorce was like—exactly how sad she was—and how very foreign you feel in the world when you're experiencing such deep grief, given there seems to be so little space to not be "normal" in our daily lives. She said it felt like mentioning her divorce to anyone would be like walking up to someone and going, "I've been in a volcano accident." In other words, it would be really very weird.
I didn't expect to write about mental health this month, despite the fact that October 10th was World Mental Health Day. What I wanted to write about was more of the gorgeous stuff I find at the intersections of things (like this!). But the truth is, I'm exhausted. I've unwittingly stumbled into one of the deepest burnouts I can remember in my life. And Jenny's commentary on what it's like to experience anything that has you walking out your front door and internally screaming, "Is everyone else not seeing this?!", was so resonate with me.
I say this because I think carving out space for what lies outside of "normal operating procedure" is so fundamental. Stated more eloquently, I shared someone's post on Instagram a few days ago that, in part, said: "Because burnout is largely rooted in ableism (deprioritizing access, rest, and conversations on capacity), challenging the things that lead to burnout is also a form of disability justice."
I am an able-bodied human, but in my experience with consistent (I'm not yet ready to call it "chronic") adrenal fatigue, engaging in a world largely built around stress and production, largely unwilling to discuss what it looks like for anyone who maybe, perhaps, can't show up every day in the ways that much of the world seems to at least be able to grin and bear it, or a world not structured for times of grief or elder care or caring for folks who are not abled in the same ways we might be—shit is just really tiring, man. I find myself wondering what job on earth allows for this kind of space? Where can we meltdown in our workplaces? Where do we recover from trauma without loss of access to the financial resources we need to keep us afloat? How can we build systems that support each other in this way?
I have so many questions about the realities of capitalism. So many questions about how to live outside of it. So much empathy for any of my disabled comrades for whom these questions are lifelong afflictions.
I just want us all to be able to fucking say, "I've been in a volcano accident" and for the response to be, "Tell us, how does the lava burn?" and "How can we help you sift through the ashes?"
