Good Is Here Right Now
Clinging to Hope While Everything’s on Fire (Metaphorically…Mostly)
Good is here right now.1
This is the mantra I’ve been carrying with me on a daily, hourly basis over the past few weeks. It’s my own personal resistance to the hopelessness that rises up around me. It’s a over-exaggeration to say that everything is terrible, even when it feels like it is.
The suffering is real, the pain is great. Their suffering is real, their pain is great. So is my pain real too, my pain also great? Even now, it’s hard for me to name that good is here right now, shushing the inner voice of criticism and comparison. (Of course there’s good here for you, Ginny. You have so much. I do have so much. And still.)
I have to cling to it like a person on a lifeboat or like Rose on the door that Jack could have totally fit on (I digress), and I try to show it to my people. Your suffering is valid, the pain is great, but look at the light peeking through this crack. Look at the tiny blades of grass (weeds) defiantly poking up through the split in the concrete. Life is here, hope is here, good is here right now.
Good is here right now in the walk for infertility advocacy I attended last weekend. Nobody at the event chose to be part of the Infertility Club. Nobody wanted this. And yet, this community chose connection and advocacy, leaning toward each other, pursuing a common good and a passion for change. It was beautiful.
Good is here right now in the holy moments of grief in my counseling room–when we sit in the pain together, and we acknowledge what is hard, and we don’t allow ourselves to feel alone or “crazy.” The things that cause grief are not good, but the work of bearing each other’s burdens, letting ourselves be honest with our pain, and pursuing healing is.
Health struggles and stays in the hospital are not good, but sitting with a loved one in a slightly fluorescent, antiseptic-smelling hospital room instead of just sending love from 719 miles away is good.
Good is here right now in the walks I take through my neighborhood over and over and over again. Attempting to regulate my nervous system. Trying to sort out a work problem that feels unclear. On the phone with friends, working to make sense of the madness and then swapping book recommendations, laughing over bawdy double entendres, and reminding each other that we’re not terrible people because of that regrettable comment we made to our partner when we were in the depths of our luteal phase and slowly losing our minds.
The leaves on my walk capture my attention. In a cluster of foliage, the leaves show off a spectrum of texture, color, and finish that could put a Sephora to shame. Matte, semi-matte, glossy. Moss green, evergreen, bright apple green.
Good is here right now in her first announcement of their pregnancy that makes my eyes well up with tears and prompts me to throw my hands over my mouth and squeal with glee and delight. It finally worked. Finally. And now they feel anxious (because of course they do) and nine months of waiting and wondering is long and labor and delivery are scary. But that’s okay. Good is here right now.
Job transitions are hard and it sucks when life doesn’t go as expected, but good is here right now in the laughter that my husband and I share over morning mugs of coffee. I curl up next to him in the evenings as I read my little book and he plays his video games and I occasionally look up to critique the ethics of his decision-making in GTA2 because I can’t help myself.
Good is here right now in the simple pleasures of watching my orange-and-white cat sleepily rotate upside down during a nap and reveal the most perfect, ultra-soft, cuddly white belly in the world. For a split second, nothing matters more than immediately smooshing his belly fluff with my whole face, cat allergies be damned. That’s what they make allergy meds for.
Watching people around me draw lines in the sand and stand up for what they believe in because they refuse to let the dumpster fire get to them too reminds me that good is here now. Every day in the news cycle feels perilous and panicked, but there is a ferocity in the community advocacy and the collective scream of “this isn’t okay with me.” Good news doesn’t make the headline, but it’s there. People are doing good things right now and change is happening. Check out the GoodGoodGood.co if you need reminders.
Good is here right now in practicing gentleness with ourselves. It’s hard to be our best selves if we’re up to our eyeballs in survival and stress, and that’s okay.
Noticing artists leaning into creativity as their personal form of resistance reminds me that there is good here now. May we never lose the drive to create in the midst of things that don’t make sense, and may we continue to support the arts with our cash money.
Good is here right now in my little trots around the neighborhood. The Nike Running App and I ran my first ever 5K on Monday and again today. I’ve only been training for this moment off and on for a decade, learning how to listen to my body, running slower than I thought I needed to, and buying the damn running shoes (they do, unfortunately make a difference). Breaking down an internal narrative around my supposed lack of athleticism alongside the diet culture bullshit I’ve been marinated in is not for the faint of heart. I even met up with a local running club this morning at the literal ass-crack of dawn and jogged with them around Charlotte. Who am I??
Good is here right now. It’s right where you are too. Don’t let the darkness win, don’t let the inner critic win. Resist the darkness and the stress and the doomsday narrative. Notice what is good right now and let the hope propel you forward.
Please let me know what goodness you’re noticing in your world!
Disclaimer: This essay is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Reading or engaging with this content does not constitute therapy, nor should it be considered professional advice or a substitute for therapy. Everyone’s experiences are unique, so what’s shared here may or may not resonate with you. For more details, please review the full disclaimer on my About page before reading. To learn more about my clinical work, please click here.
Credit to Kendra Adachi, the Lazy Genius, who shared this mantra recently.