where do we go from here?

we just keep going, i guess

The world feels somber and still this morning. I didn’t stay up to watch the results of the election last night knowing I had to be up early, but what’s strange is that I did wake up, sometime in the middle of the night, with a sense of dread. It’s like I knew. I just can’t freakin’ believe that it’s happened again.

Like I said, I woke up to silence. Grey skies and utter silence, which sometimes feels calming, but today, felt like nature standing in its disbelief. I picked up my phone to check the weather as my husband said, “You don’t wanna look.” And then, I knew it for sure.

I don’t speak up often about politics because I know that many of you reading this already stand on the same side of the divide that I do. I don’t have a big enough voice to make an impact, and sometimes, I’ll admit, I’m a little scared of saying the wrong thing to the wrong people. But now, I’m kicking myself for it, and I guess that’s why I’m allowing myself to spew it all out now. Even if it doesn’t make a difference. Even if it just makes our little bubble feel a little bit better while we try to make sense of it all.

Trying to wrap my head and my heart around the reality of this day feels equivalent to that big engulfing feeling I get when I try to wrap my head around the infinite expansiveness of the universe. I just can’t. I can’t make sense of it. I can’t understand it. All I can do is write through it. So forgive me if my words don’t come across just right.

What hurts the most is not this man or his policies, but the way he acts. The way he speaks. The way he makes it “okay” for others to act and speak in the manner that he does. What scares me the most is not this man, but the fact that so many people stand behind him. Even if Kamala had won, his support is unwavering. And that says a lot about our country. That says a lot about the people who surround us every day.

But to be entirely honest, I’m not just scared. I’m not just hurt. I’m angry. So angry. And I know many of you are, too. But you won’t see me storming the Capital in a few months. No, I’m going to take it. I’m going to keep moving forward. I’m going to find the little instances in my everyday that help make me a force for good. I’m going to hold onto hope with the help of like-minded friends and thought leaders and culture writers. I’m going to do what I can with what I have and who I am, and I’m going to pray it makes a difference.

Lashing out won’t change anything. It will only stoop me down to his level.

As I drove in to work this morning through the dark grey skies and the pouring rain, my mind vacillated between the fear, the anger, the sadness, the disbelief. I put on a playlist I call “warmth,” because it offers the warm and fuzzy feelings I so need in a time like this. I can’t change what’s happened. But I can do what I have to do to get through it, and that has to be okay for now.

As I settled into the comforting warmth of old songs and peppermint mocha coffee in a white pumpkin mug, a memory came to mind - a memory from just a few weeks ago. We were at Dollywood, and there in the mountains there were obvious emblems of political differences emblazoned on superstore billboards and graphic t-shirts. But later that night, we took to the bumper cars. And standing there in line, I couldn’t help but notice that every single person driving one of those silly little cars had a massive, all-consuming smile on their face. Sure, the thought crossed my mind that those maniacal grins were a result of our permission to playfully lash out at one another, creating 3-minute enemies out of total strangers, but more than that, I still can’t help but assume that the laughs, the joy, the pointing fingers that said, “I’m gonna get you!” were simply the result of our shared humanity, the child inside of us that is yearning to let go, have fun, and connect with others on the playground.

I share all that to say that, yes, I had a hard time offering excellent customer service to the lady who came up to me wearing a MAGA shirt at the library today. But I smiled and treated her no different than anyone else. It’s all I could do, really, to stand up for the world that I want to live in.

the kids get it.