Tuesday, November 8. Anxiety has disrupted my morning routine.
I am freaked out by the election. I am fighting feelings of paralysis. I didn’t walk this morning. I was an hour late to Starbucks.
This morning when my TV turned itself on at 6AM, I turned it off rather than watching Morning Joe for its first hour.
Over the last few days i pledged, to myself, I wasn’t going to watch the news today nor visit my Facebook account. I could say the pledge is because I’m sick to my soul of Trump’s lies. I am. Or the blatant racism, the ugliness at the movement’s core.
All good reasons to tune out.But none the reason I disengaged.
I’m scared. Our nation is on the edge of a precipice. I’m not scared just for me. It is my daughters and their generation to whom the torch is being handed. Not just my daughters. All daughters.
The changing complexion of the United States will find its way into the power structure dominated by pale males. That’s inevitable. What isn’t inevitable is how women will be regarded, the respect they are afforded, and equality they are owed.
My reaction? I am an ostrich.
I am disappointed I didn’t do more during the election. I made calls on behalf of the campaign a couple times but no more. I could have done more. I could be in a polling station in Pennsylvania right now making sure no one prevents citizens from casting votes.
But I’m not.
I recognize my circumstances, my upheaval, is a major factor in the choices I’ve made since I left home last April. And yet….
After reading The Nightingale, I imagined myself in occupied France. How I’d join the resistance. How I’d do my part.
Isn’t there just as much at stake? Ultimately, the book is the story of people rising above their circumstances to make a difference. While positive I wouldn’t have been a collaborator, in truth, that’s all I’m sure of.
On my way to Starbucks I found myself walking astride a Washington DC police officer who I see regularly getting her coffee many mornings. She’s probably 5’8″ and solidly built. I’ve never said anything to her. Today, I did.
“Good morning officer!”
“Good morning. How are you doing?
“Why are you ner…oh yeah! You and me both. We have to win this.”
“I know! I know!.” Then I hugged slash half-patted her back. I could feel her body armor under her shirt. I instantly remembered how the world keeps spinning, no matter who gets 270 in the Electoral College.
In my heart of hearts I believe Hillary will win today. I have too much faith in people to believe otherwise. With partisanship seemingly worse than ever before, I’m not sure the road before President Hillary Clinton will be any less divisive than the one she just finished traversing to reach 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
I hope for all our sakes it is.
Stay in touch. Connect.
P.S. A little romcom snippet