One Month

It's been one month since what was one of the most emotional days of my life. One month since my faith in my fellow countrypeople, my faith in what is right and good, was totally shattered into a million pieces.

The morning after, my bestfriend from England facetimed me. I had been crying, so I composed myself before answering. As soon as I saw him, holding his puppy, with his husband standing behind him, looking grim, I burst into tears. They started crying. They don't even live here. But talking to them helped. I was inundated  with texts all day, all saying the same thing: what the fuck? People I hadn't talked to in a while texted me. That evening, my friend came over, we opened a bottle of wine, we cried. We went out to eat, and you could hear snippets of conversation around us: "Hillary."

I struggled. I couldn't go very long without bursting into tears the first few days after the election. Fear had overtaken. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what will happen to immigrants. Fear of what will happen to so many of my friends who are gay. Fear of what will happen to my rights as a woman. Fear of what will happen because I supported Hillary. I realized the last time I had felt like that was on September 11. And I thought "I survived."

Then, something snapped in me. What good would wallowing do? None.

So I've been concentrating on self care.

I haven't turned on the national news in one month. I haven't watched the Today Show in one month. I've read headlines, and made a choice whether or not to read the article. If I am watching something and DT comes on, I change the channel. I started going back to acupuncture. I started giving more reiki. I poured myself glasses of wine, just one, maybe 2, not a lot. When I was in the check out line at Target, I looked for People magazine to turn around- and I smiled when I saw someone had already done it. I started spending more time with friends and family.

And although my fear is still there, it no longer consumes me.

I'm keeping myself informed, feeling horror with each person he nominates to his cabinet. I sign petitions, I look into what groups I can join when I'm ready to join in the fight. Right now I'm not ready. I know I will be. But I need to heal before I can move on and fight. And I know I am luckier than most. I'm a white female. 2nd on the rung. I live in Massachusetts. The only state in the Union where every single county voted for Hillary. Where we have a state run health care system. Where we have State Police who have openly said they will not support deportation. Where women's health care centers are aplenty. Where we were the first state to legalize same-sex marriage. I'm in a bubble, but I thank God I am. Because even in this bubble, there is hate. There was antisemitic graffiti just a couple of miles away from my house. My house was "egged" (with paint balls) because I had a Clinton sign. But I know compared to what is going on in other states, that is all tame.

I said to my therapist 2 days after the election- it feels like either someone died, or I was going to marry this great guy, and the day before the wedding, I was told "no, sorry, you can't marry him, you have to marry his disgusting, misogynistic, racist, abusive older brother and you have no choice." So here I am. Complacent for now, but planning on how the hell to get out of this and survive without too many bruises.

And the fact that Hillary's popular vote margin keeps getting wider gives me hope. It gives me hope that this country that ripped me open and tore out my heart really isn't as evil as I thought. And maybe, just maybe, we can get through this. Because, after all, we are Stronger Together.