I recently made the mistake of discussing politics on the internet. It wasn’t a total flame war, but as usual I ended up anxious and depressed about not just the sad things that happen but the fact that so many people think typing angry comments is the solution to all these sad things. I got into the discussion because it started as a request for different people’s points of view about friendships across political lines and I thought “oh, this might be a civil conversation that promotes tolerance and understanding, and tolerance and understanding help us take real action to help people.” Oh, how naive I can be. I don’t know if it’s sweet or sad.

When I feel buried under the weight of politics and world events and the breakdown of communication, I turn to craft blogs to cheer me up. I scroll through posts full of handmade sweaters and cute seasonal crafts and feel like people can still come together and create beautiful things. But politics has invaded even the knitting world, and the blogs that usually cheer me up started to depress me even more.

In the knitting world, it’s mostly liberals Twitter mobbing other liberals for not being visibly angry enough about oppression or not saying the exact correct things about it. There’s a small but very scary minority of social justice activists who will tear you apart if they feel you’re giving less than 100% of your time and effort supporting them, because if you give anything less you’re helping the enemy win. Most people seem able to just ignore that minority and do whatever they feel is right (until Twitter mobs dox them and get them fired for doing too little), but my anxiety makes it really hard for me to do that. Sometimes I can keep my perspective and sometimes I just feel helpless and depressed.

My anxiety has been high lately anyway, so my brain is definitely landing on the helpless and depressed side. When this happens it helps to get back to basics–in the simplest terms, what are my values and what can I realistically do about them? My quick dip into online politics has reminded me that I’m just not strong enough to swim the shark-filled political waters of Trump’s America, but I really do care about the planet and the humans who live on it. I need to focus on things that might help without ruining my sometimes delicate mental health.

Since slow living is on my mind these days, this has made me think hard about why I’ve done so much to slow down and simplify my life. Most of the blogs and books about it focus on the personal benefits of slow life–more time with people you truly love, more satisfying activities and peace of mind, less debt and financial stress–and the environmental benefits of using less and buying more ethical, organic food and clothing. I like and agree with this, but it’s all very self-focused and I’ve been feeling that my personal slow living puzzle was missing a piece.

This week, amid all the depressing political thoughts, I realized what was missing. Don’t tell my new liberal tribe, but it’s actually something I learned from my religious conservative childhood. The church I grew up in was very serious about tithes and offerings: committed members in good standing were expected to donate 10% of their income to the church for both religious and charity purposes and a generous offering once a month to care for church members in need, and I absolutely did this every year I was active in that church. I now realize most of that 10% paid for fancy office buildings and salaries for top church officials and other less charitable uses–one of the many reasons I left–but I very much miss the feeling that my saving and simplifying allowed me to support a good cause.

We still donate money to causes we support but we probably top out at 3% of our income on a good year. I’d like us to work our way back to 10%. I don’t want my slow life to be just about my own mental health or even about environmental sustainability (though we work on that as well). I want it to benefit other people as well.

One of the really fair complaints about minimalism and slow living is that they’re kind of elitist. It’s all very well, people complain, for people with extra to show off how choosy they are, but most people live with less because they can’t afford anything more. They’re not entirely wrong–if I sell all my stuff and travel the country in an RV with my kids, I might be really personally fulfilled but I’m certainly not helping the homeless that way or stopping any wars or even saving the birds or the bees. If I buy less and do less and use my extra time and money to fill my backyard with bird-friendly plants or support the local homeless shelter or fund a mosquito net charity in Africa (or all three) my slow living is probably more useful to the world. And I’m pretty sure it will be more meaningful and motivating for me.

Aaaaaaaaand this was my least goth post ever. Here’s a picture of our new solar panels, which are black and therefore Goth AF. There. Goth achieved.