Some comforting lessons from Downton Abbey
Facing and adapting to new realities is the key to survival and happiness
Hello readers,
My newsletter has been on hiatus for awhile. I was touched when one of you recently reached out to inquire whether Disenchantments & Discoveries had moved to another platform and whether I am okay. It meant a lot to have the absence of my writing here noted. No, it hasn't been moved anywhere else, it's just been put on hold, without fanfare, while in truth, I have not been okay. I'm dealing with more personally distressing events than I care to go into, but I thought I'd share a little something today.
First, a brief personal update: I am presently recovering from an injury that keeps me off my feet. Perhaps one day I will recount what my first experience with the Portuguese public hospital was like, the good and the bad. My family lost one of our own to cancer, and nearly two weeks later I came extremely close to losing my father. Also, I have had no Internet access for the last month since we moved into our new condo. I have been existing too much in triage mode for reasons beyond these to have the mental bandwidth required to deal with the incompetence and negligence of Vodafone.
There's been no shortage of things I want to write about these last few months, but I am no longer able or willing to push myself the way I used to. I have been reckoning with the reality that I am disabled and trying to adjust my expectations of myself accordingly. It really is a grieving process to acknowledge your mind and body can no longer be of value within the system that equates value with one’s capacity for being productive and profitable to that system's benefactors and shifting your mindset to still feel a sense of worth outside of that system while still remaining trapped within it. I'm not through that process entirely yet.
And this is where the topic of today's newsletter comes in. While I've had downtime forced on me this week by an injured foot, I've been rewatching Downton Abbey for the first time in a few years (one of the shows I have access to with no ability to stream). I’ve been thinking about how much it really hits different these days, and has been just what I needed for nourishing my ailing psyche.
I have been struck by the similarities between the post-WWI societal upheaval that took place in the rigidly class-divided Great Britain and the reordering of the world order and social norms that have been taking place in our present age. Even the use of an historic global pandemic that serves as a dramatic plot device to bring our romantic protagonists together at long last feels eerily familiar, while somehow comforting if only because it shows how humanity has survived being wedged between macro- and micro-scale trials and tribulations before, which makes these times, as extraordinary as they genuinely are, feel slightly less existential.
At the intersection of massive global disruption and change in which we feel so helpless and so insignificant, we still have meaningful individual experiences of love, joy, kinship, laughter, and bonding, even if alongside experiences of personal loss and sorrow and being targets of scheming, plotting, selfishness, and cruelty. Somehow, watching the characters grapple in different ways with trying to maintain, or let go of, a sense of normalcy—a butler fretting about a footman who is too tall, having the wrong color bow tie or incorrect set of coat tails for dinner, or *gasp* the lord's youngest daughter marrying the chauffer!—feels so familiar and comforting.
There's an exchange between Robert Crawley, the Earl of Grantham and master of the Downton Abbey estate, and his mother-in-law, wealthy American socialite, Martha Levinson, that prompted me to write this today. Lord Grantham, having suffered a catastrophic financial loss, is facing the sale of his estate and an abrupt end to his family's entire way of life and place in the world. His practical and highly adaptable in-law has some sage advice for him:
Martha: You know the way to deal with the world today is not to ignore it. If you do, you’ll just get hurt.
Robert: Sometimes I feel like a creature in the wild whose natural habitat is gradually being destroyed.
Martha: Some animals adapt to new surroundings. It seems like a better choice than extinction.
Robert: I don't think it is a choice, I think it's what's in you.
Martha: Well, let's hope that what's in you will carry you through these times to a safer shore.
(Manually adding alt text since I'm writing this from my phone while we are without house Internet. The photo above is a screen shot from the scene in Downton Abbey in which the conversation above took place. Richly dressed Martha is sitting on a red chaise longue holding a glass of whiskey while she talks with Robert, who is mostly turned with his back to the viewer.)
In a newsletter I wrote last year, “The American Diaspora,” I discussed the maladaptiveness of denial and adaptation as a survival mechanism:
I know some of you are still struggling with disbelief. Or maybe you think you’re crazy for considering leaving. You keep thinking things aren't that bad or that they will get better, because contemplating that they might actually get much worse is scary. I get it. Some of our brains are just wired to shield us from the anxiety and fear that comes with really seeing our harsh realities, but that can end up with more people in mass graves than necessary. You are not crazy. Remember, it’s not the strongest who survive, it’s the most adaptable.
While not everyone wants to, or even can, leave their physical location, it remains true, wherever you are and whatever circumstances beyond your control threaten your stability and peace, that honestly acknowledging your situation and adapting to it as best you can is the best chance you have of surviving and regaining a sense of stability and well-being.
After escaping the immediate danger of living in the U.S., I have still had some acknowledging of my reality and adapting to it left to do. I am acknowledging the reality of my disability and trying to adapt by changing my expectations, goals, and priorities while trying to be more kind to myself and reminding myself that my true worth does not lie in whatever value neoliberal capitalism assigns to me. I am learning to choose and prioritize my battles with the understanding that I can't fight for justice the way I used to. I am acknowledging that I can't throw others a life raft until I am no longer the one drowning (but I will share the raft once I get to it).
Yesterday, I was talking with my equally exhausted (and also disabled) partner about how we should try to appreciate having a roof even as we are frustrated that it leaks when it rains and is forming mold. We can be angry with a dodgy contractor that made promises, took our money, and then ghosted us, but it's better for our blood pressure if we let it go and figure out how we're going to prioritize and resolve all the problems he left us with. And we're still going to celebrate and be grateful that we are here in Portugal, where the hurdles placed before us are not life threatening the way the ones in the U.S. were.
None of what has happened to us is fair, but we lack the physical and mental capacity for seeking justice. I can no longer be the justice-seeking warrior/leader I built my personality and sense of self around. At least not for now. And accepting that reality has been one of the hardest things for me as a person who has been fighting for justice and fairness since my childhood. I see clearly now that I have a choice between trying to fight for what’s right at the risk having another stroke or a heart attack and definitely descending further into mental breakdown, or I can prioritize trying to make the best of the time I have left with my loved ones, which I have been recently reminded can be cut short quite abruptly.
Anyhow, I’ve exceeded my capacity for making sense of my thoughts for now and can feel another headache coming on. I had ambitions to maybe write more about Downton Abbey and some of my favorite characters like Branson, the Irish anarchist, and the admirably good Anna and her Mr. Bates. But I am okay with letting go of that ambition and giving my body the rest it demands now.
Feel free to share your thoughts on Downton Abbey or anything else I’ve said in the comments. I only ask that you please be kind to me and to each other.
And may what's in you carry you through these times to safety.
Até logo!
P.S. For the reader who checked in on me and also asked about the Gaia Pig, I have no recent spotting of him, but here is a photo of my son's fat cat, Loos E. Fur, taken while I wrote this! Last night the cats managed to drag an entire unopened bag of dog food across the room, tore it open, and gorged themselves! His name is appropriate, the wee devil.
See tho clearly your goals are to be of service to people, and I love that along with so many things about you & your writing... And you just helped me right here. The world and my own personal one is changing, it's hard to watch, but maybe we end up somewhere better. I'm glad your Dad is okay. And I'm sorry you got fucked over, yet your gratitude is inspiring! Thanks for your time writing this & may you & your family be well 💜💜
I enjoyed this. Your linking of the changing worlds is the kind of thinking that is really helpful for any (all) of us looking at adaptation, both worldwide and within our individual selves. And ... it kinda made me want to watch Downton again!