Marlowe Dobbe

In February, I published some self-care techniques for ladies living under what was then a new Trump administration. Now, it’s been a year since he was elected.


If you didn’t vote for Trump, each day of this year has been worse than the one before. His tenure has brought on a relentless onslaught of stomach-churning news. For me, it’s been a year of learning how far the presidential tentacles extend and Googling questions like, “Can the President really break up the 9th Circuit Court?” or “Why don’t we have a psychiatric exam for all presidential candidates?” and “Will I still have access to Netflix in Greenland?”

There’s only so much one human brain can take in a year before it breaks. So it might be time for more self-care techniques. Here are a few that have proven effective for me:

1. Drink. Just fucking drink everything. When you wake up and open Twitter and it tells you your President is ending protection for Dreamers, but told Congress to figure out a way to continue to protect them, it may cause some exasperation. So just fucking drink. Oh, is it 6 am? I don’t give a fuck. Have a Bloody Mary. Have a mimosa—they’re festive as fuck. Drink them until you have to ask your partner who’s president. Oh, are they glaring at you while they’re getting ready for work? Fuck them. They still remember who’s president. You’re winning.

2. Take drugs. Take all the fucking drugs. Weed, Xanax, that one hydrocodone from when your back went out that fell on the floor and the cat played with it so it got a little slobbery... IT’S STILL GOOD. And it’s not off-label usage. You’re in pain. The Japanese president just made “Donald & Shinzo, Make Alliance Even Greater” trucker hats. THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. Our President has turned the entire world into a shitty gift shop and the tchotchkes for sale are our souls—so yeah, smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em.

3. Cry at the drop of a hat. Like, literally, if you see someone drop a hat, start fucking crying because it reminds of you of the trucker hat thing. And also you should cry most mornings and evenings and lunchtimes and on the way to work and when you poop and really any time you have a moment to reflect. It’s fucking cathartic.

4. Did I mention drinking?
I feel like I can’t stress that one enough.

5. Let yourself go. Does it feel like we’re on the edge of the apocalypse? It kinda does—let’s be honest. And when the apocalypse comes, will it be to your advantage to have a few extra pounds on you? YES IT WILL. When skinny people are scavenging desperately for food, your body will be feeding off its own sweet, sweet fat cells, so order a fucking meat lover’s pizza and go to town.

That’s it! They seem easy, right? Because they are! So go ahead—see if they work for you! Just don’t hold the Mercury or me or anyone in my family or extended family or stepfamily or cats liable for anything that might happen as a result of your taking stellar care of yourself in these trying-ass times.