How to Be Grateful When The World Is Ending

Off the bat, I don't have an answer. Sorry for the clickbait. Also, sorry for the hyperbole. The world probably isn't ending. Democracy? The rule of law? Due process? Basic human decency? That's dying for sure, but the Earth can survive without us, and humanity is capable of great things in the face of enormous challenges, so who knows?

I won't count us out just yet.

I have an exciting guest author cooking up a special edition of Witch's Mark for you and the Eight of Swords, and that will be coming out soon, but in the meantime, here's a list of the things I'm grateful for, and moments of rare joy in the midst of all this fuckshit:

My mom and dad are selling the home I grew up in, and I'm excited for their next chapter. We're gonna go say goodbye to the house in a couple weeks, but in the meantime, my mom has been sending me all kinds of gems that she stumbles upon in her clean-up. She sent my brother and me our childhood vaccination records, for example – a document that will soon be made illegal, or at the very least, relegated to the dusty archives of museums dedicated to the olden days when research and science were dedicated to saving human life (quaint!) and not just building hot robots to jack off billionaires or sending pop stars to space. Among the ephemera, my mother found this gorgeous self portrait and self-aggrandizing acrostic that I made in second grade:

Last week I took my beautiful, fluffy, and turns out, slightly out of shape dog, Pip, on a hike that nearly killed her. I have a bad habit of expecting dogs to tell me clearly in spoken English when they've had enough, instead of remembering that dogs, god love 'em, will follow you up and down hills for miles until their legs literally give out beneath them. Poor Pip. It wasn't that long a hike, but it had been awhile since she sprinted up a mountain. She was awfully sore the next day, but during the hike? Well, she was beside herself with joy. There's nothing better than the voracious glee of a dog in the great outdoors.

I have a tendency to push my own body beyond its physical limitations – perhaps related to being a professional child actor raised by a competitive athlete. Clarks ain't got no quit in them. For example, the first day I was cleared to exercise post C-section #2, I joined one of those gamified spin classes where you compete against your fellow riders on a live leaderboard (I live for that shit). I rode like the wind, like my life depended on it, pushing past every ache and pain and common sense, and I came in first place among the women. Was it worth it? Of course not. I had major abdominal surgery just six weeks prior! Do you know how they perform C sections? They take your guts out of your body, pull the baby out, and PUT THEM BACK IN. Anyway, from now on, I vow to be more aware of how Pip is feeling on a hike, AND ALSO, how I am feeling. Rest is good, necessary, and OKAY. I need to get that through my thick skull.

I continue to derive an insane amount of pleasure and satisfaction from the communal living situation I have right now with my brother, his wife, and their baby. My nephew bounds into my house every morning in search of his cousins "Gigi!" and "TOES!" and he gives the best "huggies" and begs everyone for "CRACKERS," "PIZZA" and "CHEESE." He climbs on top of Pip and squeezes the life out of her because he loves her so darn much, and she lets him because she is a saint. Plus, this sort of domestic bliss happens every single day:

I cannot recommend enough having a delicious baby (who is not yours) live with you. I get to see him every day, but I also get to sleep through the night. I love my brother. I love my sister-in-law. I love my nephew. I love watching him grow and learn new things and chase my kids around. I am so grateful that we are all together as the world spins out of control. It grounds me in a sense of familiarity and comfort, and makes me feel like some things might be okay. Or, at the very least, even if things are definitely not okay, there is still a lot worth fighting for.

A few weekends ago, I was in Palm Springs with some of my favorite people in the universe, and I made this face at the Sunday Tea Dance. We went clubbing in the afternoon, and were home in time to watch reruns of Traitors and eat graham cracker flavored ice cream. There is no better way to spend a Sunday.

I also walked around Palm Springs looking like the hottest highlighter on God's green Earth, and I'll never apologize for being this FINE.

I got an app on my phone that reminds me of Cher's closet in Clueless. A few weekends ago (because I find it nearly impossible to relax), I catalogued every single article of clothing, jewelry, shoes, and bags that I own, and now I get to put outfits together and SAVE THEM TO A CALENDAR. For the first time in literal years, I have worn actual, honest-to-goodness OUTFITS multiple days in a row. Slowly but surely, I am discovering ways to hack my adult-diagnosed ADHD – I have major decision fatigue and writing requires every single inch of my brain, plus all of the willpower, stamina, and decision making skills I can muster. When I'm writing I find it hard to even feed or dress myself. BUT NOW I can just pull up my handy dandy phone (soon to be valued at seven or eight million dollars with tariffs) and beep boop beep, there's an outfit I picked out days ago when I had more energy. Hell yes and you're welcome if you see me out there in the wild looking like a grown ass human woman with professional ambitions and real life responsibilities.

I am tremendously grateful to Mother, Lady Gaga, for the gift of her newest album, Mayhem, a return to her roots so epic that I almost went to Coachella (I didn't, I'm not completely insane, and I can't go from zero to one hundred that fast). I have watched her iconic Coachella set on youtube and fantasized about what it might be like to be her. I have also begun compiling my Summer 2025 playlist (most of Mayhem included), which I plan to listen to in a hyper-fixated state of constant repetition until I become so sick of every song on it that I have to shelve it for ten years. The best thing about musical hyper fixation is that it really cements certain songs and albums in a specific period of time. There are playlists on my phone that I can listen to years later and suddenly I'm transported back to my mom's Honda CR-V driving around Los Angeles with a crush on some guy at work. Music is a time machine, especially if you have ADHD.

A few more stray things I'm grateful for:

• Larry David dunking on possibly my least favorite person on Earth, Bill Maher, in the failing New York Times.
• This photo that my mom sent me of my father wearing some kind of judge's robe and blowing a conch shell to signify either Christ's resurrection or possibly the start of an Easter egg hunt:

• The joy on my husband's face when every member of the family comes downstairs wearing Lakers gear on the morning of a playoff game:

• My brother and I teaching the kids our favorite card game to play on Easter – Spoons. They loved it. It got competitive quick, and I'm just as fucking awesome at it as I was BACK IN THE DAY.

Okay, friends, what's been keeping you going in our dystopian nightmare? What are you grateful for? What are you fighting for? What can you offer this community as an example of joy? Tell us your ways! Help us find things to keep us going! WE NEED THIS!

(I need this)

Leave your suggestions in the comments.