For We the People…

This sh*t is personal.

Hi friends.

So, despite the fact that the torrent of Trump crazy has not abated one bit as of late (or maybe because of that), I wanted to take a minute to check in with all of you.

How are you doing? How are you feeling?

Are you feeling overwhelmed? Are you excited, anxious, angry, nervous, worried, inspired, hopeful, disgusted or scared? Is it all of the above, often seemingly all at once?

I get it. That’s me too.

Some days it feels like I’m alone at the gym, all the lights are off, it’s cold and dark and I’m there, walking at an incline on a treadmill with a heavy weight inexplicably strapped to my chest (or my ankle depending on the day).

And as the numbers on the machine’s screen flash before me, I begin to realize the entire exercise is little more than a sweaty blend of exertion and futility. Each step forward feels purposeful, yet the landscape remains stubbornly unchanged. As my muscles engage, my pulse quickens and my legs move in perpetual motion beneath me, it still feels as though the destination remains forever out of my reach. I’m hearing all the doubters. I’m pushing the dark thoughts away. I’m tired and I’m worried and I’m scared.

Those moments are hard.

And yet in the very next breath, without even necessarily knowing what it was or why, I can feel as though I’m running outside with all my friends down a winding country road like the one I grew up on. Surrounded by seemingly endless expanses of rich green grass dotted with yellow wildflowers and bright white baby cows. The comforting home-reminding aroma of fresh manure carried on the crisp, cool breeze. (I jest, but sadly, that smell really does remind me of home 😂).

In my mind we’re all running like it’s Chariots of Fire towards the same golden beams of light we can see on the horizon. Towards a destination which seems to glow with a quiet promise of a better tomorrow. And suddenly I’m filled with a sense of joyful possibility. One which makes me feel as though my legs can carry me forward forever. I tell myself we’ve totally got this. No way are we going back.

Those moments are glorious.

But in between and interspersed throughout those two extremes — anger, sadness, frustration, rage, disbelief, disappointment, embarrassment and confusion are punctuated by extremely cathartic bouts of uncontrollable laughter and utter silliness.

And some days I genuinely think I’ve lost my damn mind.

I ride the relentless rollercoaster of the day until I have little left to give, kiss the kids goodnight (who are the reason I’m on this damn thing to begin with), drink some much needed “therapy” wine, get up in the morning and do it all over again.

But some days, days like today, I take a minute to look around.

I look around at everyone else strapped to this damn ride along side me. And I wonder how they’re doing? How they’re feeling? How they’re holding up? I wonder what it is that keeps them coming back for more day after day?

I wonder what it is in their life that compels them to keep fighting.

On top of all of their other worries, what is it that drives them to speak out?

Do they have a sister with MS who will be discounted and discarded by a heartless Trump “administration” that will end the Affordable Care Act and offer no replacement?

Are they worried they might be deported, imprisoned, that their jobs will be less safe, that their kids won’t have schools to go to or food to eat?

Are they scared that they won’t be able to get the medication they need to live? That they’ll be denied a medical procedure or be unable to afford it altogether?

That they’ll be forced to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term? That they’ll have to watch their own daughters’ menstrual cycles being tracked in some dystopian database, their travel restricted, their right to vote taken away?

Are they up at night terrified that something elemental to who they are could land them in a jail cell for “deviating” from the norm?

Are they faced with the choice of silently accepting an empty chair at the dinner table because an entire political party prioritizes weapons of war over the lives of human beings or does that permanent ache in the depths of their soul compel them to take action?

Are they facing losing their home because the cost of caring for an older parent and young children at the same time is crushing them in mind, body and bank account?

Is it the attacks on our democracy? The looming threat of tyranny? Is it that they simply and steadfastly refuse to cede this country over to those who seek to tear it down and rebuild it of their own making?

It’s something for each of us. All different, and yet also the same.

I look around and I see all these faces and I know that like me, there’s a story behind each and every one.

We may have taken different paths to this place, but we’ve all arrived here just the same.

Our stories are the stories of America. Each one deeply personal. Each one equally important.

So very different from one another in so many ways, and yet — when we take a second to look around, we see that we aren’t really all that different after all.

We all kinda want the same things. We want to be burdened with less. We want less worry. We want our loved ones to be ok. We want to BE ok. And yes, we want our neighbors to be ok too.

I know, I know believe me I know, this can all sound like a Coca Cola commercial from the 70s, but I’m increasingly leaning into that goddamn song ok. (It was catchy). Because when I look around and I see the truly evil, hateful, depraved cruelty on display on the other side, I know that most of us are genuinely sick of it.

We don’t want that shit. We really don’t.

And what I realize more and more is that what we need more than anything right now is to “meet” each other. To share our stories. Our “whys.”

We so often talk about all that is “at stake” in this election, as if it’s some abstract we can analyze from a distance. But the other side is throwing flaming bags of shit at us and so far no one has been able to stop them.

So maybe we could try something new.

If I were advising the Democratic Party right now, I’d have them reach out to every American and ask them not just to tell the rest of us what keeps them up at night when they think about a Trump “presidency”, but to show us.

MAGA wants to stoke emotional responses with hate and fear, what if we meet them at that very level but with compassion, decency and connectedness instead?

You don’t have to be a single mom in Texas contemplating driving her son to Mexico for a medical procedure he desperately needs to care about that woman and her child.

You don’t have to be Muslim to care about their mosques being shuttered and their family members being deported simply because of their faith.

You don’t have to have a uterus to care about women being left to bleed to death in hospital beds as the price-tag for miscarriage.

I know we talk about all of this often. But while we must continue to call out Trump, his malevolent intentions and authoritarian agenda, we also need to find a way to truly tap into those human stories we’re all carrying around with us always.

His lies gobble up all the oxygen all the time because they are designed to.

They are meant to illicit emotional responses. Angry, fearful, intolerant, violent ones. And we can’t ignore them, but we also can’t allow them to dominate and drown out OUR stories. We have to be just as loud about the grim realities of what he will bring, what his party will mean for US. We have to make others see why he must be stopped. Why lives literally depend upon him being stopped.

More than that — our stories can also highlight why what Kamala is promising to do for all of us is so deeply personal too.

Helping families afford childcare and elder care. Keeping the cost of prescription drugs down, expanding the Affordable Care Act, expanding Medicaid and Medicare, codifying Roe, enshrining voting rights, keeping religion out of our government AND our schools, feeding hungry kids, housing the homeless, making it easier to actually buy a home, providing our veterans with the healthcare they need and the dignity they deserve.

I know that I so often can sound idealistic or naive. And that I too often expect more from people than they’re capable of giving.

But I can’t shake this. I can’t shake this idea that despite all of our differences, we are still largely decent. We are still largely good. We still want good things for ourselves and others. We still want to feel less alone.

And it is through sharing our stories that we can help each other. We can push back against hate. We can gobble up all the oxygen for the good of society.

And we can win.

I know it’s scary. I know you’re worried. I know you know what’s at stake.

Together is the only way.

We know the country we want. We know the one we believe in.

So let’s check in on each other. Let’s share our stories. Let’s do this.

We are not going back.

So let’s win this thing shall we?

We don’t need to teach the world to sing, but when we win, I’ll buy ya’ll a Coke.