Gobsmacked and gutted

But getting back up.

What the fuck just happened?

One night I was standing at the foot of the famous “Rocky steps” in Philadelphia, tears streaming down my face as I listened to a brilliant black woman telling the world that we were moving forward as a nation with her at the helm. We stood firmly together, united in our resolve to reject the divisiveness and hostility that was the era of Trump. I was surrounded by so many joyful warriors, each contributing to a powerful and determined chorus that resonated with hope and strength. In response to the rallying call of “when we fight…,” we united our voices to declare resoundingly, “WE WIN.”

Then, in a shocking and heart-wrenching twist, the very next night, I found myself in a Philadelphia hotel room, tears streaming down my face as messages from dear friends in the polling world flooded in with discouraging news. When one urged, “Turn off the TV. Go to bed,” I realized our reality was shifting in a way none of us had anticipated.

But we weren’t supposed to be going back. We couldn't possibly go back to that. To HIM. And we did fight. We fought like hell. Why didn’t we win?

This was not supposed to happen.

But it did. And it’s been so fucking hard to process hasn't it?

Tuesday night was a rolling nightmare. Wednesday was fucking hell.

It’s now Thursday night, and I’ve run the gamut on every emotion under the sun. I’ve gone from gobsmacked to gutted and back. I’ve gone from being completely immobilized to wanting to punch the wall. I’ve gone from mad and sad, and scared, and ready to flee across the border with the kids, to “fuck this and fuck them” determined to stand up and fight. I’ve even felt shit mid feeling other shit that I didn’t even know I could feel. Like, I didn’t know it was possible to snot bubble while crying so hard over the impending doom of a federal abortion ban that I couldn’t breathe while remembering to order smoked salmon from the grocery delivery app on my phone because it would make my son happy only to stop mid-price comparison to gasp in horror when imagining a Secretary of Pull-ups and “Impordent” Information on Space Lasers and Peach Tree Dishes Marge Greene.

And then I invariably ask myself: How the fuck are we here again? How the fuck did this happen? And why is it so much fucking worse this time?

The very reason I even started on this journey to begin with was because of 2016. Because I couldn’t explain to my then 7 year old son how the bad guy had won. And I vowed to make it right.

I thought we had done that in 2020.

I thought we had put that behind us.

I was wrong. I was so, so very wrong.

And my answers to how this happened are ever-changing and static at the same time. Because so much of what happened in 2016, happened again. The same racist, sexist bullshit made a whole bunch of fucking racist sexists vote to strip themselves and their families of healthcare.

A whole bunch of white women voted to strip themselves and their daughters of more rights again, so that’s also the same. And yet, what’s different about that now is the fact that we’re now post-Dobbs, so their canned “Roe is settled law” bullshit no longer worked — but they voted for him anyway.

A whole bunch of Latinos who had been listening to him promising to deport tens of millions of them on day one voted for him anyway.

And so here I am on Thursday night, listening to Coltrane while on a treadmill at the gym, avoiding the tv and the radio just like I did post Election Day 2016, because once again I simply cannot bear to hear his voice “triumphant” in defeating a woman far superior to him by every conceivable measure. I cannot stomach the sound of him reveling in this catastrophe of an election.

I just can’t do it. So for the first time in YEARS, I’m not watching the news, and I’m not listening to the news. And quite enjoying the blissful absence of his fucking blabbering in between his crushed Addy snorting sniffs.

And then in the quiet, my mind pings from one terrifying thought to another and to then another, faster and faster like it’s dystopian hellscape fucking Pong.

Stephen Miller, Mike Flynn, Corey Lewandowski, Seb Gorka, Roger Stone and every other to say the least, unsavory, son-of-a-bitch will have their grubby little hands all-up America’s skirt and it makes me want to puke.

And then there’s the worry. What will the “retribution” look like? Will they come for me? It sounds silly to think so, but is it?

What if my daughter gets pregnant? What if she miscarries and can’t get care? What if? What if?

And then I think about all of the autistic kids I worked with and how those services will be gone. What will happen to them?

What will happen to Ukraine? To Gaza? To immigrants all over this country? To Arabs?

And if the worst happens, who will stop him?

Is there anyone who can?

Is this the end of democracy as we have known it? I have found myself mourning my own life as I know it now as if I know it will be but a memory a year from now.

Thoughts swirl in my mind relentlessly, racing through every hour of the day without pause. It feels as though I’m caught in a loop, unable to find the switch to turn it all off. Friends and family often advise me to take a break, urging, “Jo, step back for a moment. Unplug from everything.” Yet, despite their kind intentions, the incessant noise of my thoughts continues to drown out their well-meaning suggestions..

I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to turn it off. I don’t have time to unplug. I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, and I’m not gonna waste a second.

I’ve endured evil. I’ve stayed silent in the midst of it. I’ve let it keep me down and keep me quiet. I’ve let it push me to the brink of not wanting to be alive at all.

And I emerged from it. Alive. Very much alive.

More than that, I emerged stronger. I’ve learned how to channel my pain and turn it into fuel. I’m still learning. It’s not always easy. But the harder it is, the more I learn.

And here’s one thing I have learned —

The thing about struggle is that the only way out is through.

I’ve been walking through these past few days intermittently feeling like someone has reached deep down inside of me and pulled out everything that made me who I am. Leaving nothing but skin, flesh and bones behind.

I feel waves of being untethered from reality. Like I’m living on the inside of a nightmare in which I’m floating above the horror unfolding beneath me, but I’m powerless to stop it.

I want to shout out for help, but I can’t scream. And there is no one to call even if I could. And so I just curl into a ball and sob.

And then a moment later, I’m telling myself that we need to fight. That I need to fight. And then that gradually builds into me wanting to punch every trump voter in the dick. And then that inevitably ebbs into the gut punch and coinciding stomach upset that this is indeed our reality. That this actually happened. That our country really did put that motherfucker back in the office he killed people trying to steal. And then it hits me;

Seniors voted to gut Social Security.

Men voted for their wives and daughters to die from miscarriages.

Immigrants voted for deportation raids.

Poor people voted for tax cuts for billionaires.

Women voted to have fewer rights than men.

Police voted for a convicted felon.

They all voted for a twice impeached, convicted felon, racist, rapist, coup plotting traitor. And it makes me feel sick. And we have to get through another four years of him, sitting in our house and flying on our plane and making us all look like fools on the world stage.

Sitting with all of this is hard as fuck.

Bracing for what’s to come is scary as fuck.

But steeling myself to being willing to keep speaking out, to keep fighting, to keep standing up, is also motivating as fuck.

Because we all have our “whys”.

And once again, for me it’s my kids. It’s always been about the kids. But it’s also about the fact that our President stepped aside for this shit when I didn’t want him to, and while we will never know if he would have won when Kamala didn’t, I am determined to make this right FOR him.

But it’s also about my steadfast belief in the promise of America. Even now. In the wake of all of this.

Because I know that there are still tens of millions of people out there who did the right thing. Decent human beings who believe in democracy. Who want to protect rights, not strip them away.

There is no question that what we’re up against is dark. The road ahead is going to be bumpy at best. But we don’t have any other choice but to stand and fight. We have to walk through this. For ourselves, for our friends and families, for our country, and for the world….

We will fight.

And we are never alone. We have each other. And we are strong. Especially when we are together.

It’s OK to feel all the things you are feeling right now. It’s OK if you’re not ready to stand up and fight just yet. It’s OK if you’re feeling lost, disillusioned and down.

This is a very difficult moment in time for all of us.

But we will get through this, and we will emerge stronger from it. Of that, I am certain.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”