I only bought the t-shirt to your revolution.
Like the rest of you, I have been in mourning since election night.
[But if you have been celebrating since that Tuesday evening, let me warn you this post is not for you. Kindly, move along.]
For months my emotions have ranged from disbelief to outrage to helplessness and terror. Now it seems they have settled in a place of deep paralyzing despair. I know that I am not alone in this depression, but I also know that still others are managing to focus their feelings in more ‘productive ways’.
Some are choosing to write, or protest, or organize. Some are doing all three. Many are donating and volunteering. Still more are doing letter writing campaigns and petitions. These focused mourners, seem to have found a way to deal with this nightmare of dictatorship that has taken over our country. They say things like ‘sometimes it has to be broken to get fixed’ or encourage others with ‘becoming part of the solution’ and they seem to honestly embrace that this whole new hell we are in is a rare horrible opportunity to shine.
Welp. Sorry world. Not me.
I wake in the middle of the night feeling like everything I knew to be great about our country has been taken away by an idiotic bully whose personality mimics Hilter in so many ways, I find myself CRYING more frequently than ever before. I worry, worry and worry about people who are no longer protected and all of those who are on the losing end of this regimes mission. I worry about the men my boys will be having to experience this as they are entering adulthood. Their NORMAL is horrifying and I don’t know that they will ever really understand just HOW horrifying it is…
Which brings me to The Women’s March occurring on January 21st in hundreds of cities across America. I have looked at the website several times. I have donated to the organizers. I have plotted directions where to park and yes, I even bought the t-shirt. Then I started thinking about what my protest sign might say. Days of thinking and all I could come up with was “I AM SAD FOR US”. Because I am. I am very very sad. Sad in a way that feels heavy and exhausting. The kind of sad that takes the joy out of everything. The kind of sad that is the enemy to motivation.
So what I realized is that I am not ready to protest. I have no ‘fight’ in me. I am not ready to do much of anything.
I am simply too sad.
Of course, I want to be that empowered woman who wears her Hilary cap and yells cliche motivational phrases she pinned on Pinterest like ‘be the change you want to see in the world” or ‘change starts with you”, “it only takes one voice” blah blah blah- but to a sad defeated me,they all feel hollow.
Basically, I am useless to America right now. I am not sure I believe we can do a damn thing. And that scares me the most. It also has brought a huge wave of shame over me. I never believed helplessness to even be part of my DNA, but I guess I was wrong.
I have been so wrong, about so many things.
So I ask for you to forgive me,Women’s March people. I wish I had your optimism and strength. I promise when (and if) I ever get back on my emotional feet, I will be the one to hold you up when you need it. But for now, I thank each and every one of you for being far better at dealing with this democratic tragedy than myself.
You deserve the damn t-shirt. You are the revolution.