Caring About Everything All at Once
Some days seem to stretch far beyond their 24 hours. They pull you in different directions, making it impossible to know what to hold and what to let go. Yesterday, I had one of those days—a day of strange, discordant emotions where the personal and political collided in a way I didn’t know how to navigate.
It began with the inauguration of a leader whose values seemed to mock the very idea of progress. It ended with a moment of personal disappointment so minor, I almost felt guilty for caring about it.
A Brief Moment of Excitement
That evening, after the heavy fog of the day’s events, I got news that should have been uplifting. An acknowledgment of my work—small but meaningful—came from a source I didn’t expect. For a moment, I let myself feel the warmth of being seen, even in a small way.
But the warmth didn’t last. I had offered a gentle critique, not meant to harm but to clarify, and in response, the acknowledgment was withdrawn. Just like that, the sun disappeared.
If you’ve experienced Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), you know how this goes. What could have been a small sting turned into an emotional spiral, complete with existential questions like, “Why did I think this even mattered?” and “What’s wrong with me for caring at all?”. I know enough about my own patterns and mental health to understand what was happening and have a name for it, but it doesn’t make it THAT much less painful in the moment.
The disappointment wasn’t devastating, but it was disheartening. It stuck around longer than I wanted, a faint echo in the background of an already heavy day.
Holding the Weight of Both
The personal sting felt trivial compared to what was happening in the world. The inauguration had already left me drained—a stark reminder of how fragile progress can be and how easily it can be undone. In the face of that, how could I care about something so small as being unacknowledged?
And yet, I did. I couldn’t help it.
Because even when the world is on fire, the small things still find a way to matter. That fleeting moment of recognition, and its quiet withdrawal, echoed something bigger: how fragile affirmation can feel when you’re already carrying so much. It wasn’t just about me—it was about the tension between being seen and dismissed, a tension that exists everywhere, from the smallest interactions to the largest systems.
Moving Through the Dissonance
That day left me with a question I’m still trying to answer: How do you care about both the big and small without letting the weight of one diminish the other? How do you hold your own disappointments with empathy, even when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you?
Maybe the answer isn’t about resolving the dissonance, but about learning to sit with it. To let the personal sting remind you why the bigger fight matters and to let the bigger fight give you perspective without invalidating the small hurt.
Caring deeply, about both the world and ourselves, isn’t silly or selfish. It’s a reflection of what it means to be human—to hold the enormity of the world’s struggles alongside the fragility of our own.