Brexit Negotiations begin today. What a time to be Alive, eh?
Before I begin, first, my apologies – I promised myself I wouldn’t blog about politics, but this is about politics having an impact on mental health. Now… for those who are reading this and don’t know me, I’m going to be dreadful and self indulgent, and tell you a little bit about Me. Just so that you can get an idea of where I’m coming from. Not because ‘Me’ is my favourite topic of conversation. I’ll try to keep it as brief as I can.
1 – I am a Woman. And a FEMINIST. Not a feminist, not a Feminist, a FEMINIST.
2 – Before ‘following my dream’ of being an Actor, I studied Physics at university, and taught it, on and off, for about 8 years. So I am a fan of cold, hard facts, and theories based on facts.
3 – I am an atheist. But I believe in freedom of religion. Just don’t use that freedom to try to convert me. This Lady (unlike Theresa, but worryingly like Maggie) is not for turning.
4 – Before moving to London in the mid 90s (no, YOU’RE old), I grew up in Italy. To Scottish parents who have lived all over the world. So, at the risk of sounding like the most awful wanker that ever lived, I simply do not think of myself in terms of nationality. I’m a Londoner, yes, but that phrase goes beyond nationality. Whether you like that, or not.
5 – I am a card carrying member of the Labour Party. But I have Green tendencies, and I have voted Lib Dem in 2 General Elections. Including 1997, The Year of Blair.
Just over a year ago, after a couple of General Elections that didn’t go my way, Sadiq Khan was elected Mayor of London. It wasn’t just the fact that he was the Labour Candidate that made me happy, up until that stage, I had never really minded Zac Goldsmith, as far Tory Politicians went. I though he wasn’t bad, mainly because of his Green credentials (See point 5 above), but the tactics used by both him, his cronies David Cameron and Boris Johnson, and the right wing press made me sick to my very stomach. The smear campaign to whip up anti-islamic feelings in the public, and to (not even just) imply that Sadiq Khan is a terrorist sympathiser was both revolting, and dangerous. And it made me Anxious. Very anxious. What if the city I love, one of the most cosmopolitan cities in world, turned a blind eye to the blatant racism, and elected someone who played on people’s fears (remember the front page of the newspaper that showed the 7/7 bus?) to his own advantage. It didn’t. My anxiety was sedated for the time being.
Then on June 16th, Jo Cox MP was murdered by a far-right terrorist shouting “Britain First” as he did so.
Just under a year ago (June 23rd), and people were going to the polls again. To vote on BrExit. Again my anxiety was back from sabbatical (See Point 4). The Leave campaign took a nasty racist turn (what more can you expect from a campaign fronted by Toady McToad Face Farage?). Not only that, the government ministers campaigning for it (Stringy McPuppet Face Gove and Giant McBaby Face Johnson) were not only telling people out and out LIES (Anyone got a spare bus hanging around?), they were telling everyone to ignore the opinions of the experts (See point 2) and to just trust their gut … and the HIGHLY agenda driven press which wasn’t so much publishing news, as propaganda… ALWAYS question the reliability of your sources in your GCSE History, kids, Year 10, lesson 1… sadly it appears 52% of the British public didn’t retain that valuable lesson. We all know how that story ended. My anxiety was not sedated this time. I sobbed as I read stories about the rise in hate crimes. I sobbed as I heard people who had promised an extra £350 million a week to the NHS admit that this was not a fulfillable promise, I sobbed as I saw the reactions of people who had voted “just to give David Cameron a lesson” realise that their vote WAS counted, and it was being counted towards making a decision for the country that was so much more than just a 5 year government. I wept, I raged, I marched, I lay awake at night, etc… etc… etc… I tried to find comfort in the fact that both London and Scotland had overwhelmingly voted to Remain. I tried to find comfort. But I failed.
Then November came. Or Trumpaggedon. And Americans elected a racist, climate change denying, (self-confessed) pussy-grabbing, misogynistic, islamophobic, fear mongering liar to be its president. (See points 1-5) Because that was more palatable than electing a woman. Now, I just want to make clear, I do not expect women to be given Special Treatment. Quite the opposite. I want women to be given EQUAL treatment. Here’s another thing about Me – I have experienced actual sexual assault 3 times in my 39 years on this planet. And that’s if you don’t count groping in clubs/bars/public transport (more times than I can count). And if you don’t count unknown men in cinemas getting their dicks out and masturbating next to me (twice). And if you don’t count men in stations getting their dicks out and masturbating when I was the only other person on the platform (once). And if you don’t count men shouting at me in the street about whether or not they would shag me (on average once a week for the best part of 25 years). Or men in bars not taking “I’m not interested, thanks” seriously. Or taxi drivers and employers asking way too personal questions. I’ve had science “explained” to me by men who don’t even have a GCSE in physics, chemistry, or biology (see point 2). I’ve been told (BY A FRIEND while I was studying Physics at a University which is regularly ranked in the top 10 in the world) that I’m “Very intelligent for a woman”. Now ask 20 random women you know if they’ve experienced this sort of attitude. I’ll save you the time – they have. So, no, don’t tell me it shouldn’t upset, or concern me that despite hearing it FROM HIS OWN MOUTH, the US chose somebody who is not only a sexual predator, but someone supremely less qualified to lead it than the woman he was competing against. Just. Don’t.
And then in January Britain’s FEMALE Prime Minister jumps on a plane faster than you can say ‘Cheeto-Faced-Thin-Skinned-Pussy-Grabbing-Cretin’ to be the first world leader to invite the idiot to come to the UK for a state visit. Despite all his revolting campaign pledges. Unbelievable. Anxiety levels are rocketing.
In March came the first in a series of terrorist attacks in the UK. Dreadful, horrible, pointless waste of life which, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the right-wing used to their advantage in whipping up anti-islamic feelings nation wide.
In May the left-leaning world was celebrating that ONLY 40% of France voted for a Nazi (Go back in time to tell your 2013 self this, and see how they react). And then came the terrorist attack in Manchester.
And June kicks off with another terrorist attack in London. More senseless life-loss and suffering.
There was a glimmer of hope as Labour, despite all the deplorable press coverage, did so well in the General Election. I KNOW we didn’t win, I’m fully aware of how it works, but knowing that Jeremy Corbyn’s refusal to engage in personal attacks, despite all the personal attacks on HIM from the other side, and the fact that people voted for positive messages about looking out for each other, rather than being brainwashed by the Murdoch-led press gave me some hope in humanity. I could actually FEEL the anxiety packing its bags and getting ready for it’s long overdue holiday.
And then Grenfell Tower…. which, like it or not, as well as being a tragedy beyond comprehension, IS a political issue. It was a heartbreaking, very damning demonstration of the consequences of ignoring the concerns of the poor, and the vulnerable. Every day since Wednesday I have tried to read about it without allowing a lump to rise in my throat, or my blood pressure to rise from anger. But I have failed. Every day.
And then today… we wake to the news of another terrorist attack.
It’s enough to drive every member of the British public to anxiety levels well beyond what anyone can cope with. Please don’t think I’m making the tragedy of others about Me, that is not my intention, but this is nationwide feeling of grief, and loss and anger.
And how do we deal with SO much sadness and loss? In such a short space of time?
I’m trying to take my own advice. I’m trying to think of the positives. I’m trying to exercise it out of my system. I’m keeping off the booze. I’m getting enough sleep. I’m looking up at the sky until I’m blue in the face. I’m trying to avoid the news, but there is so much happening that is very important. So many lives are being destroyed. So many years of hard earned human rights are being rewound. All of the things that I value seem to be under attack. And it’s hard not to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. And it’s hard to see anything that one Anxious Actor can do to stop any of it, or help in any way. I feel broken, and helpless, and like I’m swimming against a tsunami. I feel guilty about the fact that I can’t stop it.
And I know SO many people feel the same.
And today…. today Brexit negotiations start.
So I’m taking a deep breath as I type. And I’m thinking about The Husband’s face. And I’m thinking about my lovely chat with my dad yesterday. I’m thinking about all the people running to help to those poor, terrified people in Grenfell Tower. I’m thinking about Sgt Pepper. I’m thinking about my niece’s excited laughter, and one of the women I love most in the world’s pregnancy. I’m thinking about my brother’s wedding just over a year ago, and I’m thinking about my imminent tour. I’m thinking about Melissa McCarthy’s Sean Spicer impression, and Alec Baldwin’s Trump impression. I’m thinking about those two white women confronting a ‘Britain First’ hate monger outside a mosque in East London. I’m thinking about cheese.
And I suggest you do the same. It won’t change the world. It won’t bring back lives. It won’t stop the vitriol.
But it might help act as a hard border which the waves of anxiety don’t have the visa to cross.
It might not. We can but hope.
Now where is that gin I hid from myself?
This post was originally published as ‘The Anxious Actor”
My Name is Not Debbie 