Carin' About Karen

In the midst of Autumn 2017 I was deep in the throes of psychosis. It was my second trip to the psych ward in as many years; the first trip was tied with a cute little narrative bow of too many uppers chased with downers, no sleep, and the wig-flipping disbelief that America let Biff Tannen win. During the 2016 episode I proclaimed I had successfully “slayed patriarchy” and “killed the Universe” using the power of my mind. My, my, my, check out the big brain on Brad!

The manic episode I suffered the following year was an unasked for present slobbishly shoved inside a reused gift bag with the card signed “You’re welcome. XOXO, #metoo.” Also weed. I know I’ve mentioned this before but I cannot stress enough, if a dealer offers you a strain called “Freddie Krueger,” politely decline and go for the Gorilla Glue instead.

Enough about drugs. Back to Carin’ about Karen. During that 2017 stay I spent most of my visit on another plane in another time. Sometimes I was transitioning into a unicorn, other times I was Robin Wiliams or a pigeon from Sesame Street, or a miniature Brienne of Tarth. But as I became more present into this, the darkest and dumbest of timelines, I was making proclamations to anyone who’d listen. And at that time, the only people who were listening were my husband and sister, who were a two-person super squad advocating for me in a hospital that neglected to keep me bathed and fed when I was too far gone to do those things myself.

I don’t remember a majority of my stay, but as time progressed I slowly slinked out of catatonia into an altered, almost-there return to normalcy. On one of these nights my sister and husband visited, I felt like I was levitating in my bed not unlike Zuul from Ghostbusters. I kept alternating cat/cow and child’s pose, complaining that I was an “overfed horse.” I then proclaimed we needed “to start caring about Karen.”

“Okay. But who’s Karen?” My sister asked, half humoring my crazy ass/half genuinely curious as to what I meant. The only Karen we knew was a woman who lived a few houses down in our childhood home, the wife of a cop and the mother of a handful of odd kids who attended the same parochial grade school we did. I didn’t mean that Karen at the time (I think I was referring to either Karen Kilgariff or Karen Walker from Will & Grace; it’s anyone’s guess). But maybe I do now?

A Karen, as we are all collectively aware, is a specific subset of white lady crusaders who believe it is their God-given right to police the world against any people or actions that don’t align with theirs. Karens confuse their whiteness with authority. Karens don’t rail against patriarchy, they grip onto the coattails of it with all their white might because if their husband (Karens are rarely single) is number one atop the pyramid of identity politics, they come in at a close second. Phyllis Schlafly is not a Karen but she is their architect. Schlafly’s anti-feminist housewives-in-solidarity are Karen’s ancestors, and they are terrified as they watch their worldview becoming more and more out of focus.

Trump, a celebrated chauvinist and misogynist who bragged about what a hot slice his daughter is well before his campaign, won 53% of the white women vote. That’s a shit-ton of Karens, and I realize now that those are the Karens we need to start caring about. They’re becoming increasingly disenfranchised, and not without reason! There is a shit-ton of footage posted online of Karens policing people to “speak English” or “go back to their country” or questioning whether or not some kids have a license to drive.

Karens retaliate against the poor depiction of themselves caught on countless unedited uploads. They liken the “K-slur” to the “N-word.” They’re frantic, worrying that if their patriarchal daddy-husbands go the way of the dinosaur, they will too. But, Karen. There is hope.

Surely, some of you have a Karen in your life. Perhaps it’s a relationship that can’t be broken. But maybe you’re a Becky. Or a Megan. Or worse, an Amy. And even though you’da voted for Obama three times if you coulda, or you’re a monthly donor to Planned Parenthood, or you were proudly wearing your pussy hat while marching in frigid DC January 2017, you’re just as complicit as Karen in the stabilization and insularity that white supremacy promises.

Hopefully this isn’t news to you. And if it is, you’re getting it from the wrong source, bb.

I had my last manic episode last month. It netted me another two weeks in the psych ward. This time there were no substances involved so I now have a diagnosis and the correct meds to keep me feeling sane in an increasingly batshit crazy world. I am on the bipolar spectrum apparently. Works for me. I was discharged on July 4th. I declared it the Emancipation of Me! Me! because there is very little to celebrate about living in America. Even for scaredy cat Karen.

Grandiosity is a symptom of being bipolar, and for a long time I thought it was my personal responsibility to rescue all the marginalized people I’m indebted to for bringing me so much joy in music, art, or text. My hubris kept me from understanding my place in all of this, or the knowledge that the queer black people I admire so much have already been doing this groundwork for centuries and I should just stop worrying where my place is and get out of their way and let them do the damn thing. They’ve been fighting for a long time and they know what they’re doing without input from a well-intentioned-but-out-of-her-depth Megan such as myself.

"Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare," is Audre Lorde’s oft-repeated quote, and it’s no joke. We are not free until everyone is liberated, which might mean forever and that's a mighty long time. But while we’re here, in this blip of a second we are a speck of dust on this wacky planet, let’s find some joy and light up others who are doing the same. We can even let Karens have some joy too, as a treat.

Media has always been my go-to tool for education. But there is a wealth of garbage out there. I should know, being Garbage Girl. I used to find joy hate-watching Bravo reality TV, but I no longer get satisfaction as a voyeur ridiculing whites behaving badly. I’m grateful I was able to get that hate-watching monkey off of my back ‘cause she was a hard one to shake. I’m also detoxing from social media, which has been more difficult during a pandemic. But I would die happy never having to see another white dude playing armchair activist over BLM messaging or castigating a Karen fighting for her rights to get a haircut or get some frozen yogurt. It’s so boring and the same playbook and why don’t we try something different this go-around.

Like instead of castigation, why not compassion? Karen’s world is in shambles. Up is down. Left is right. White is an impurity staining every fiber embedded in the world. Instead of shame, try some show and tell. Maybe not with the Karens who are strangers on the internet, but the Karens on your block, or in your house, or in your brain.

I wish I could follow my own advice, but I’m afraid the Karen in my life is too far gone. I gave birth to myself (metaphorically, obvi) during my last hospital stay, and I like having a Megan as my mom. Megan’s cool. Megan’s caring. Megan loves colors and dancing and singing and walking children in nature. #notallmegans

I'm Having Too Much to Dream Every Fuckin' Night

I’m painfully aware of the fact that no one likes to listen to people relay last night’s dream. I know this because I do it and I see your eyes glazing over and yet I continue anyway because frankly I’m mostly talking for my own amusement. Also, I’m not like the others. My dreams are fascinating because I am fascinating.

Like many Gen Xers, the grooves in my brain developed while I was being incubated by the warm glow of my mother, the TV set. So my subconscious is chockablock with pop culture iconography with no room for important things like self-discipline or executive function. When I spent most of Fall 2017 in a psych ward, for most of my stay I was in a dreamlike state on another plane. There I wasn’t a bedraggled, begowned mental patient who hid pills in her bed and was amassing an enviable collection of slipper socks. I was celebrated chanteuse Eartha Kitt. Buxom bobby soxer Audrey Horne from Twin Peaks. RuPaul’s Drag Race alum Katya as her boy self as Mork from Ork. One of Bert’s beloved pigeons from Sesame Street. Tyrion Lannister. Crow T. Robot. When I was getting an MRI I was cozied up in the MRI machine with Jon Hamm and Rachel Bloom. That didn’t suck. I was Miss Cleo. I was The Sentinel. I was a messiah. Not the messiah, just one of many. I’m a modest messiah, m’kay. There was a brief moment there when I was gonna transition into a unicorn but ultimately I didn’t go through with it. I regret that sometimes.

So, yeah, my brain’s a freak bitch y’all! And while I am not certifiable at this juncture, my id remains vivid.

In my manic days you could not convince me David Bowie wasn’t God, but these last few years have proven that if there ever was a God, he went out for cigarettes sometime around 350 BC, and hasn’t been back since, not even to drop off a nerf football at Christmas.

Since I was a little girl, Bowie visited me in my dreams. We recorded an EP together in my bedroom while wearing matching striped pajamas. I don’t remember any of the songs but trust, they were brilliant. Not as good as anything from Low mind you but it was at least a million times better than Never Let Me Down. Which isn’t a brag because that album is unlistenable.

Anyway, ever since the Covidening, just like that deadbeat deity who owes all of Earth’s children several millennia of child support back pay, dream Bowie’s abandoned dream me. Instead of chatting over Salmon Niçoise with David and Iman en plein air in the Marais, I’m dodging die-ins in front of Hobby Lobbies. Instead of trading cheeky barbs with Mr. Jones over an overflowing ashtray of stubbed out Cowboy killers, I’m being walked in on in the bathroom by Britney Spears mid-pee who’s threatening to remove my legs with an oversized nail file because she wants them for her own.

“Can I finish peeing?” I ask her.

“No!” she responds.

I do anyway and luckily overpower her, apprehending the nail file that I use to decapitate her. I’m a dream warrior.

In another dream I’m Vince Neil performing live with the Crüe. I’m on scaffolding surrounded by groupies who dance like the Mary Jane Girls. We sound more like Def Leppard than Motley Crüe but my huge dong looks awesome in my tight leather pants. This was one dream of like 20 I had that night. In another one I was witness to Madonna recreating her Blond Ambition tour 30 years later and her lip fillers made Amanda Lepore’s mouth look as thin as John Waters’ mustache.

I’ve seen other quaranteenies muse on social media that their dreams have been especially Banana Town too. Welcome to my world, friends! There are theories floating around as to why. Who knows. What are dreams anyway? Mystical oracles? Pernicious premonitions? Our brains taking a huge dump? I don’t know. I’m not a scientist. But I am a dreamer. And a schemer. And a writer (allegedly). So, when I need a break from stuffing my maw with spaghetti, weeping for humanity, and zooming with pals, I’m gonna keep a dream journal. Here. On my blog. On the internet. I welcome you to share your own dreams and perhaps offer your own interpretations of my subconscious droppings. Let the conversation begin!

Taking Out the Trash

Hello! And welcome to my home. This is my second attempt at a blog; the first was in 2010. I called it “Brave Dumb World.” It chronicled my foibles in fumbling toward adulthood in my early 30s. And here I am, in the last year of my 30s and still I grapple with most of those themes, minus the fact that I now poop wherever I want. With abandon.

Despite some half-hearted attempts at cleaning up my act, I’m still flailing at this thing called life. Always crashing in the same car. I am not alone. “Adulting,” the oft-maligned Millennial buzzword, pertains to the completion of any mundane task attributed to grown-ups, i.e., doing your laundry, cooking a meal, not spending your hard-earned money on stuff like these tank tops. In a 2017 op-ed, WaPo contributor Jessica Grose explains she hates the term “because it’s a self-infantilizing rejection of female maturity in a culture that already has almost no love for grown-up women.” I don’t disagree with that sentiment, and while I’m not about to rock a “Wine. Because Adulting is Hard” t-shirt anytime soon, being an adult is, like, still really hard for me. But why? I need answers. And solutions. Going out in public in my sweatpants is not activism, it’s surrender. And I’m not ready to give up.

Life is comprised of rituals and routines. Habits. The cultivation of habits is a neurological process, and I genuinely feel like the synapses I needed to develop good habits never developed. My parents, barely adults themselves when they had me, never enforced consistent discipline or healthy habits. I ate chicken nuggies with sweet ‘n’ sour sauce and sipped Dr. Pepper all the live long day. I stayed up all night, supervised by the warm glow of the MTV blaring in my bedroom. Left a permanent imprint of my pudgy little body on the living room couch. My inner-mantra was “No parents! No rules!” So it’s not my fault, see? Because childhood. But like the produce currently wilting in my crisper, that excuse has an expiration date that has long since passed.

On November 16, 2016, in a deeply manic, post-election-holy-fucking-shit-the-world-is-on-fire state, I had a profound shower thought. In my formative years I fortified myself with garbage TV, garbage food, garbage drugs, garbage men. I was a garbage girl, and the world was dependent on me changing my ways. This epiphany also came with the realization that I was a messiah—not THE messiah, but a messiah—so it wasn’t entirely unshaky, but I think that part was just my higher self checking in to let me know that I mattered. Or it was God. Or David Bowie. But same difference, right? I don’t know, I’m still working out the kinks.

Since then, my world has been severely fucked with. Hospital stays, a diagnosis that was later retracted, getting on and getting off medication, depression and anxiety, joblessness, self-imposed isolation from friends and family. And through it all, I remain garbage.

But it’s not all bad. Some of the garbage I’m rather fond of. Like my love for all things irreverent including the work of the Pope of Trash himself, John Waters. Or the personal satisfaction that comes in intellectualizing dumpster fires like Vanderpump Rules or Bachelor in Paradise. But there’s a lot that needs to change. Or the world, my world at least, will continue its crash course to loserdom. So let this inaugural blog post be my clarion call. I’m taking out the trash! I’m going to take a deep dive into Lake Me and get to the bottom of why I can’t for the life of me develop good habits (hint: it’s probably a hopefully very treatable undiagnosed mental illness). I am going to stop listening to the chubby, disheveled little devil on my shoulder who tells me to give up every time something feels difficult or uncomfortable (her name is Trish and she’s a real bitch). I am no longer going to be an American Idle, sitting passively while the world, still ablaze, passes me by. I am not going to let my approaching maturity (hello, 40!) become an invisibility cloak. I’ve carved out this user-friendly little corner of the world wide web (thanks, Squarespace!) to make my voice known. And if it’s all shouting into the void, like most of the internet is, well that’s okay too.