I’m feeling a lot of anxiety about a variety of topics these days. Mostly it’s the state of the planet, politically (morally) and physically. They both feel like daunting, insurmountable problems, however, in my brain’s assessment, tackling the environmental one seemed slightly more practical. As a result, it’s getting more of my attention and thus producing the majority of my cortisol.
In all the conversations I’ve had with people about this in the past few weeks, I’ve come to realize how little we actually know and how so many of our actions are based on opinion and scientific bias. By that, I mean, science that supports your current belief system or level of willingness to change. I don’t portend to be immune from this. We’re only human, after all.
Just by writing this, I likely come across as some privileged, ignorant housewife who’s finally taking her head out of the oven long enough to get a clue. I will admit there was some aspect of calculated avoidance of global reality for a number of years. Ignorance is bliss. It’s also a good way to avoid panic attacks.
For the good of my children and to be able to provide the support they need in their own journeys, I chose temporary mental stability over being adequately informed. It helps me yell less, breathe more, and find patience for the never-ending requests for food, entertainment and perfection. But even without daily news alerts about the state of the ocean, dwindling air quality, the bullshit around recycling programs or the debate over electric cars, the truth surrounds me. One need not seek enlightenment to get a sense of what’s really going on.
I had an idea a while back to open a store where people could refill old containers with things like shampoo and dish soap. As is typical with these sorts of things, I was not the only one to get a visit from this muse. Thankfully, the other recipient had a more entrepreneurial spirit and actually decided to do something with it. So now, when I run out of laundry detergent or even coffee beans, I can scoot down the hill to get a refill.
I was in there the other day and noticed a plethora of empty maple syrup jugs. Apparently, an employee of a nearby restaurant collects them, washes them, sterilizes them and brings them in for others to use. It struck me as I picked one up to fill with shampoo that, while genuine, it’s possible this collective gesture was misguided. What costs more to the environment: the act of buying individual bottles of shampoo or the act of driving to a specific place to refill a container that’s sterilization used its own amount of water and energy?
With every decision I make to be conscious, there’s either another step further I could take, or one in an entirely different direction. Do you buy ethically-made new clothing or go to a thrift store to buy someone’s castaway fast fashion? Do we drive all over hell’s half acre to refill containers or go to Costco to get it done in one fell swoop? Gas-guzzling cars or electrics powered by coal?
Even if you’re living off the grid in the middle of the forest, killing rabbits with whittled spears, you’re still cooking the damn thing on a wood fire, one of the dirtiest fuels around. And so I find myself getting lost in the rabbit hole of sanctimony.
This is not to say I’ve become a hardcore environmentalist who’s determined to walk everywhere in hemp flip flops and fit a year’s worth of household garbage into a mason jar. There has to be some element of realism involved. I just want some answers. So, while we wait for the politicians, scientists and activists to all get on the same page, my friends have offered some sage advice: choose what you can do, do it with conviction, and chill the eff out before you give yourself an ulcer.