✨ The After Party is where it gets real.

🤬 How To Stay Engaged In Politics Without Burning Out

A pep talk for the exhausted, the confused, and the "I'm done with all of it" crowd.

Sandra Serrano

Jan 27, 2026

Hello, fabulous!

Quick check-in from the land of “I did not ask for this timeline.”

You know what I’ve been hearing a lot lately? Some version of “I just can’t anymore.”

Can’t read the news. Can’t argue with relatives. Can’t perform the right level of outrage on the internet. Can’t keep track of who’s problematic this week. Can’t make it make sense.

I get it. I really do.

Politics has become this thing where you’re supposed to have an opinion on everything, immediately, with receipts, or you’re part of the problem. Where one wrong word gets you dragged. Where both options feel bad so why bother choosing. Where it all feels like performance anyway—everyone’s just yelling into the void and nothing actually changes.

So you’ve muted it, or you’ve decided “both sides are terrible” and peaced out. Or maybe you’re just so tired of being angry that you’d rather focus on things you can actually control, like your sourdough starter or whether to get bangs.

I’m not here to shame you for that. I've been there too. Some days I'm still there.

But here’s the thing I keep coming back to that won’t let me fully check out even when I really, REALLY want to: opting out doesn’t make you neutral. It just means someone else is making decisions for you. About you. About the people you love.

And right now, the ones making those decisions are conducting illegal mass deportations of immigrants, silencing the press, treating the Constitution like a rough draft, and openly saying they want to be dictators “just for a day.” (It’s never just a day.)

I’m not both-sidesing this because I can’t. I spent over 20 years in uniform defending the Constitution—not a person, not a party, the actual document. The idea that we're all equal under the law. That rights aren't gifts from leaders, they're guarantees. That power gets checked, not worshipped.

When I hear leaders start talking about terminating the Constitution or using the military against American citizens, that’s not normal political disagreement. It’s personal. It’s a betrayal against everything I believe in and our country’s democratic ideals.

And look, I know you’re tired. I know it feels like too much. I know you didn’t sign up to be a full-time activist or policy expert or professional opinion-haver.

You don’t have to be any of those things.

But you do have to understand this, and I say it with all the love I have: stepping back because it all feels too much doesn’t protect you. It doesn’t protect your kids, your healthcare, your retirement, your community, your rights. It just means the loudest, angriest people get to rewrite the rules while you’re trying to find some peace.

I know what you’re feeling because I feel it too:

“I don’t know what’s true anymore.” The chaos is designed that way. Confusion keeps us frozen, and frozen people don’t fight back.

“Everything feels rigged anyway.” Sometimes it is. And that’s exactly why we can’t afford to hand it over completely.

“I don’t want to pick a team.” Then don’t. Pick principles instead. Pick rules that apply to everyone, not just the people we like.

“What can I even do that matters?” More than you think. Way less than you’re afraid of.

Here’s what I keep coming back to when I’m overwhelmed, when I want to burn it all down or just walk away:

We don’t threaten people who disagree with us.
We don’t treat leaders like kings who can do no wrong.
We don’t excuse horrific behavior just because “our side” is doing it.
We don’t call accountability “persecution.”
And we absolutely don’t joke about being dictators, not even for a day.

That’s the line. Not Democrat or Republican, left or right. Just the baseline for a country that doesn’t eat itself alive.

When a movement crosses those lines—when they celebrate cruelty, reject accountability, demand loyalty over law—I don’t care what party they belong to. That’s not politics. It’s the END of politics.

I’m not asking you to make this your whole personality, to have all the answers, or to never feel tired.

I’m just asking you not to disappear.

Because when good people check out, the worst people notice. They move fast to pass laws while you’re not looking. They dismantle protections you thought were permanent. And then one day it affects you directly—your kid’s school, your healthcare, your neighbor being rounded up—and you think, “How did we get here?”

We got here because regular people got exhausted and the extremists never do.

Democracy isn’t exciting. It’s not a peak experience or a viral moment. It’s maintenance. Tedious, repetitive, deeply unsexy maintenance.

Like going to the dentist or changing your oil or checking your smoke detectors. You don’t do it because it sparks joy. You do it because the alternative is your house burning down or your teeth falling out.

So if you’re thinking, “Okay, but what can I actually do that won’t consume my entire life?”—I’m right there with you.

Here’s what you can do:

Call your representatives about one thing that matters to you. It takes five minutes. They actually count these. Your voice is data they use.
Pick one issue and get unconfused on purpose. Not everything. Just one thing. Learn it well enough that you can’t be easily manipulated about it.
Vote in local elections. Not just the big presidential ones—the school board races, the city council seats, the ballot measures that actually shape your daily life. Vote411.org will show you what's on your ballot and when. Local is where your vote has the most power and where most people aren't paying attention.
Support something local: your library, a community org, local journalism, mutual aid. The small stuff holds everything else up.
Show up once to something nearby. A school board meeting. City council. Just to see how the sausage gets made.
Talk to one real person like they’re a real person, not a comment section or an avatar or a lost cause.

That’s it. You don’t need a law degree or a podcast or perfect moral clarity about every issue on earth.

You just need to refuse to disappear.

When you check out, you don’t escape the consequences. You just lose your voice in deciding what they’ll be. And the people who stay in the room when you leave? They’re not always the ones you’d want making decisions for your family.

If you’re ready to get involved—I’m here.

No judgment for how long you disconnected. No purity tests about whether you’re doing enough. No shame for still being tired.

Just a quiet, steady invitation to not let the worst people win by default.

We need you. Not perfect…just present.

With all my encouragement and support,

For my Popstars & Headliners:

I made you something! Two full size (8x10 or 11 x14) printable graphics you can download, print, and put wherever you need the reminder:

Stick one on your fridge. Tack one to your bulletin board. Slip one in your planner. Put it wherever you need to see it when you’re tempted to check out completely.

Because sometimes we need a visual reminder that this matters, that we’re still in this, that refusing to disappear is its own act of resistance.

Not sure where to start?

Step 1: Read this Substack post by Leona Waller. It provides a practical, clear-eyed breakdown of five simple things you can do as a regular person trying to make difference. Choose three.

Step 2: Go to 5calls.org and it hands you the numbers and a script. You can do democracy in under five minutes, wearing pajamas, fueled by spite or espresso. Both count.

Step 3: If this resonated, forward it to one friend who’s been saying “I’m done with all of it.” For Democracy.