Feeling Helpless? That’s Exactly What They Want.

Viktor Frankl found purpose in the darkest times, his lesson is more urgent than ever

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Earlier this week I had the opportunity to meet with the Junior League of Chicago and give a speech about fostering civic engagement. I was supposed to do this talk back in October, but right before I was scheduled to fly out, I had a medical emergency that landed me in the hospital. Re-reading the speech I wrote, in the post-election world of the Trump administration, was almost laughable. Everything from how we protect ourselves to how we engage in civic action to how we find hope has changed.

But that doesn’t mean we have changed. We are people who care deeply about those around us and want to make this country and world a better place. And we want to do so while maintaining a well of spirit and hope for a better future.

And so I wrote a new speech, and I’m sharing it here, edited to better suit Substack, because writing it really inspired me in these dark times. I hope it inspires you too.

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Viktor Frankl once wrote “for the world is in a bad state, but everything will become still worse unless each of us does his best.”

I try to wake up and do my best every day even when it feels impossible.

Everything feels very overwhelming right now, and that is the goal of this administration. They want us to feel defeated and distracted and disempowered.

I see it in myself and everyone around me: this bone-deep exhaustion that feels bigger than just being tired. We're carrying the weight of a world that seems to demand our attention and emotional energy at every moment, yet offers no clear path forward. Between endless crisis headlines and social media debates, it's tempting to shut down, to decide that nothing we do matters.

The words I hear most often from friends and followers are "I'm scared, I'm frustrated, I'm hopeless." We're all feeling it - that creeping sense that the problems are too big, too complex, too entrenched for any one of us to make a difference. When you're juggling career demands, relationships, maybe raising kids, and trying to stay informed, it's exhausting to feel like you can’t do anything that will make a difference. That weight gets heavier with every notification, every headline, every heated family dinner conversation.

I know that moment when you're staring at your phone late at night, scrolling through another disturbing news story, thinking "What can I possibly do that matters?" I've been there too.

And I’ll tell you what, I actually did feel quite defeated last week. I was getting all these comments from Nazis and I had an overwhelming feeling of being unprepared to fight.

So what did I do when I was feeling incredibly down?

I shut it all down.

I decided to do a 24 hour social media break. Well…I meant to do 24 hours, but I tapped out at 21. I was still pretty proud because those hours healed my brain a little bit and since I wasn’t scrolling I finally had the chance to read a book that has been on the top of my to-be-read pile since November 6th: Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl

Frankl was a Viennese jew, a psychologist and philosopher who spent three years in Nazi concentration camps including Auschwitz. He wrote Man's Search for Meaning over the course of nine days, in it he tells his story of how he survived life in the camp.

This past week marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz and Holocaust Remembrance Day, a day when we are tasked to look inwards and decide what never again really means.

I tabbed a lot of pages and highlighted a lot of lines while I was reading Frankl’s book. His words, his philosophy, his way of understanding the world made a lot of things click into place for me. And it has helped me answer the question I have been wrestling with the last couple weeks: How do we deal with everything happening in such a way that it propels us forward towards a better future?

Frankel's thesis is that the meaning of life, the thing that kept him alive in the darkest hours of life in a concentration camp, is to have a purpose. As a doctor, he tended to the sick in the camps. When given the option between helping others and self preservation, he chose to help. In times of desperation, he scribbled small notes of the book that he wanted to publish. He wrote:

Man does not simply exist but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become in the next moment. By the same token, every human being has the freedom to change at any instant. One could say that human existence, at any given moment, is always an unfinished product. It is impossible to define a human being in static terms; we are always in the process of becoming, always moving forward—or backward—depending on the choices we make.

He wrote that it is not on us to ask what the meaning of life is, but rather that life asks us the question, and we answer it hourly with our actions.

This isn't about pretending everything is fine. It's about understanding that even in difficult circumstances, we have the power to choose how we engage. Meaning emerges from our choice to be present, to care, to take part in shaping our shared story.

I refuse to accept that helplessness is our only option. The very fact that so many of us feel this way, that we care enough to be exhausted, signals something powerful. It means we haven't given up.

Frankl teaches us that when challenges feel meaningless, they drain us; but when we connect them to a greater purpose, they can drive us forward. When we view our current political exhaustion through this lens, we can see our frustration not as a burden, but as evidence of our deep care for our communities and our future.

Frustration is not a sign to step back, it's fuel for stepping forward. What we need is to remember our capacity for meaningful action, to reconnect with that part of ourselves that knows change is possible because we've seen it happen before, because we've made it happen before.

The antidote to helplessness isn't just hope—it's purpose. We all have access to that, even when we’re totally overwhelmed.

While we're questioning whether our actions matter, a small group of powerful interests are methodically consolidating their control. They're counting on our exhaustion. Every time we think "my voice doesn't matter" or "what's the point?" we're helping them tighten their grip. They understand something crucial that we sometimes forget: power doesn't just come from having resources and influence. It also comes from convincing others that they don’t have any.

I see this playing out in my own circle. My friends, all of them brilliant, educated women who showed up for every election, attended every march, are stepping back. The relentless cycle of devastating headlines has worn them down. I get it. As someone who lives in this space I feel that weight too.

I have found myself spending hours and hours scrolling TikTok over the last couple months. My emotional support scroll. You're technically 'informed' about what's happening, but you feel more helpless with each swipe. That's not just anxiety, it's what Frankl calls the existential vacuum pulling you deeper into passive observation rather than meaningful engagement.

I think it’s important to reframe how we think about the exhaustion caused by doom scrolling, it’s not just digital fatigue, it is a hunger for meaningful engagement.

The existential vacuum thrives on passive consumption and isolation. But it cannot survive contact with purposeful action and genuine connection.

That bone-deep tiredness you feel when reading the news? It's not weakness. It's the weight of giving a damn in a world that often feels designed to make us stop caring. That heaviness in your chest when you think about the state of things? It's not a burden to shed. It's evidence that you haven't become numb, that you're still showing up with your whole heart, even when it would be easier not to.

Who fills the space when we step back from local meetings, when we decide our voice doesn't matter? It's people who want to ban books from libraries, who want our neighbors to be rounded up in raids, who want to end public education. Yes, the system feels rigged. Yes, it can feel pointless. But every time you choose to show up you’re creating meaning and you’re taking up space.

This isn't about shouldering the weight of every problem. It’s about choosing how and when you want to engage in a way that works for you.

Our democracy stands at a crossroads. We're watching dark money flood our politics, we’re seeing the broligarchy rise up and control our government, we’re watching women’s rights get rolled back. But even in moments that feel darkest, we have more power than we realize - not because the situation isn't serious, but because meaning and impact often emerge from exactly these challenging moments.

Hopelessness can become its own kind of comfort zone. Our phones feed us an endless stream of evidence that everything is the worst, and there's a strange satisfaction in being right about how bad things are. The algorithms know this. They know outrage and despair keep us scrolling, keep us engaged in all the wrong ways.

I'm not talking about forced optimism. I'm talking about finding meaning in the act of engagement itself, even when (especially when) we can't guarantee the outcome. Every time you choose to attend a local meeting instead of doom-scrolling, every time you have a real conversation with a neighbor about community issues instead of arguing with strangers online, you're creating meaning.

The beauty of this approach is that it transforms us and our communities. When you engage with purpose rather than rage, when you choose action over cynicism, you start to weave yourself back into the fabric of your community. You discover that while you can't control everything happening in the political sphere, you absolutely can control how you show up in your own corner of the world. You might not be able to change the name of the Gulf of Mexico, but you can get a speed bump on your street. You can get three other people politically engaged. You can hold out your hand to someone who needs help. The headlines often distract us and keep us disengaged just when we need to engage the most.

This isn't about ignoring the very real challenges we face. It's about refusing to let those challenges define the limits of what's possible. It's about recognizing that meaning often emerges from exactly these moments of uncertainty - not because we're guaranteed success, but because we choose to engage anyway. Because we choose to keep going.

What's fueling our hopelessness isn't just the enormity of our challenges - it's the illusion that we're facing them alone.

So let me say this clearly, and I want you to really hear it: You are not alone.

There's a painful irony in our world right now. We're more digitally connected than ever, yet experiencing a profound crisis of meaning and connection. We've traded deep conversations for comment sections, real relationships for follower counts. And while we're swimming in information and hot takes, many of us are starving for authentic human connection.

The statistics on loneliness are staggering. The Surgeon General tells us that half of American adults are experiencing serious loneliness. And solving this epidemic isn't just about the quantity of people in our lives. It's about the quality of our connections and, most importantly, the meaning we create together.

The weight of "fixing everything" isn't yours to carry alone. Instead, I invite you to focus on one powerful truth: your presence matters. Whether that means joining a local committee, calling your representatives, starting a book club, or simply showing up to help friends and neighbors - each act of engagement creates meaning, not just in the world around you, but in your own life.

Every civic choice you make ripples out in ways you might never see. When you take civic action you're demonstrating that even in uncertain times, we can always choose how we show up in the world.

The future isn't predetermined. It's shaped by our choices, our voices, and most importantly, the meaning we create through our actions. Every time you engage in civic life, whether through voting, volunteering, or speaking up, you're not just participating in democracy. You're declaring what matters to you, what you stand for, and who you choose to be in this moment.

This isn't about changing everything overnight. It's about recognizing that even in our most overwhelmed moments, we have the freedom to choose how we respond. And in that choice lies not just the potential for change, but the opportunity to discover purpose especially when things feel most uncertain.

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If you want to get engaged but don’t know where to start, my book Democracy in Retrograde can help you find your path. Find it at bookshop and amazon.