ELECTION 2024: TAKE A MOMENT

Let's all just take a moment.  

Let's just take a moment to think about what we've done.

Let's just sit in the time-out chair and contemplate bad decisions and horrific consequences. 

Let's just contemplate what the punishment will be for such an act of irresponsibility.

Because what our country did on Tuesday was indeed a very bad, irresponsible, consequential thing.

My thoughts are a cacophony in my head.

My emotions are such that if I let them all out I might be scooped up off the street and taken somewhere for my own protection, and yours. 

So I sit here.  Breathing.  Feeling my body on the chair.  My fingers on the keys.  My eyes on the screen.  Just breathing.

When the outrage, confusion, sadness, disappointment, dread, and despair rise to the surface, I breathe.

When I question how could this have happened,  I breathe.  

When I wonder how just over one-half the voters in our country could choose such a vulgar, racist, misogynist, ignorant, fascist-leaning, convicted felon and all around despicable human being to be the leader of the United States of America, I breathe.

When I type those words, and realize that once again a strong, experienced, intelligent, articulate, caring woman lost to the very worst man, I can barely breathe. 

When I wonder about the future, especially for this country in which my granddaughters will live their formative years, I wonder how their lives will be impacted by a citizenry that elects the very worst man and continues to relegate, by any measure, more superior women to the sidelines of true power, I breathe and mourn.

When I stop and wonder all of this, I realize that my position of age, whiteness, and privilege will shield me from the immediate and most terrifying actions promised by this President-elect.  As a woman I know something of being marginalized, something of discrimination, but I don't personally know the horrors of racial, or ethnic, or gender diverse, or sexual orientation, or  poverty-based dehumanization.

What I do know is that marginalized people have always had to sit and breathe; feeling the rage, sadness, fear, and dread.  We have always been pushed aside, our skills and gifts ignored. We have always watched as the unqualified and unforgiving have risen to power. We have always been blamed for anything the powerful didn't like.  We have always breathed through it; sung through it, danced through it; wailed through it; and sometimes found some deep well of strength to rise up against it, maybe gaining small victories and some large.  It is the story of power and privilege and this country in many ways exemplifies that ethic.  So why am I surprised now?

When I think about hope, I remember that some time ago I gave up on hope.  It is just an empty exercise in wishing for an outcome that may never materialize.  I still have aspirations, desires for things to be different, and I might try to take some action toward that end.  But hope?  I allowed myself hope in this election.  I am reminded that hope is folly and I try to breathe through my tears.  

We have often heard the inspiring words, "We are better than this."  No, we are not.  This is exactly who we are.  All across the country, across many demographics the majority of the voters in this country voted against democracy and decency.  We are now not unique in the world, no longer that "shining beacon".  We are just like any other country that has flirted with and committed to a right wing populist autocracy. I can't breathe.

The breath alerts us to our inner state.  Under threat, the breath is fast and shallow readying for action: fight or flight.  Or we hold our breath in shock and overwhelm: freeze.  We recognize safety by noticing a deep, slow, steady breath, allowing us to rest and renew.

So, here is what I will do for awhile, after all the work of the campaign season ending in disappointment.  I will breathe deeply and slowly.  I will find safety.  I will rest and renew.  I will spend my days being cared for by Hub and him by me.  I will gather with family and friends, go for walks, read a mystery novel, binge some mindless TV, create something lovely to give away, take care of my body and my heart in nourishing and nurturing ways.  

Is there enough breath in this nearly 74-year-old body to keep going for as long as it takes to get to work again: to save democracy, to see a woman I can support become president, to live in a land that is truly compassionate and allows freedom and opportunity for all?  I don't know.  But today there is.  Today I breathe.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  Internet...it's going around and I don't know the originator.