In order to get right with ourselves, we have to see outside ourselves—and in order to do that, we need other people. Our survival depends on it.

In a world in which manifestations of hatred keep popping up, making it clearer every day that the human race is divided, feeling lost and hopeless makes sense. How can I enjoy the privileges of my life when I know that, just a few states away, families are being torn apart from one another?

It appears that I can't, that we can't. Instead, I—we—collapse. We self-medicate. We turn to excessive spending, drugs, and alcohol. All things that only make us feel worse.

Being compelled to sit at a desk for 8 hours a day affects me in a lot of really negative ways. It makes me feel stifled, trapped in my own head, and thoroughly drained by the end of most days. I don’t feel cut out for the whole “having a job” thing at all (judge away, baby boomers—we’re all just the products of our genetics and experiences), but like many of you, I feel financially tied to my employer because America doesn’t give a shit about people having health insurance and my company gives me great benefits and good pay.

Oftentimes, when the date of a past traumatic event comes around the following year, it becomes an anniversary — a traumaversary — that doesn’t have the same joy as a birthday or dating anniversary. Instead, these days can be filled with melancholy, fury, rage, resentment, heartache, and more for years and years.