Waking up is hard. Staying awake is harder.

I didn’t even acknowledge big sections of my country. Not the scary hateful part that got louder and more powerful this fall, but was there all along, not the “I just wanted change,” voters who insist they aren’t racist or xenophobic or sexist but can’t continue to live scraping along and barely making it, or those who just vote on party lines. I counted Trump voters out entirely, like they weren’t even real.

November feels like a lifetime ago, and I was in a bubble. The morning of the election I thought it was sufficient that I voted, I wore my little sticker and I was actually proud I’d done my job. But I didn’t donate, I didn’t phone bank, I didn’t even put a yard sign up for Hillary. And, as the results came in I truly felt ill. Stunned. Too many of us naïve liberal white people never went to sleep that night because the impossible was happening — the joke of a candidate was no joke.

I’m not going to lie — this seems insurmountable. I read someone who said that watching the news right now is like watching a live shooter situation — only day after day after day. It is numbing. Smarter people than me are scared and overwhelmed and angry.

It is too tempting to turn off the news flood and pretend it all isn’t happening because today I have enough food for my family and no one is harassing me and the snow is falling and making the street outside look cozy. Having enough money, a decent job, living in a safe place, having white skin, etc. –it all makes it so easy to check out.

Right now, I’d rather put up Christmas lights. I’d rather research summer camps. I’d rather do nearly anything than turn on the news or engage. I see I’m not alone, and those of us who would rather slink back and disengage have to be careful before shutting down.

I can try and pretend foreign election interference isn’t screaming across the headlines. That the Cabinet appointments aren’t happening. That the rate of hate crimes isn’t increasing. That the assault on women’s rights isn’t underway. I can sit this one out — until when? Until it threatens my own family or personal well-being?

But, where do I begin? Someone I respect and admire said yesterday, “I’m just a regular person.” And, that said so much to me. There is no guidebook for something like this. This is a dig in and try to do something every single day situation in a country that feels like it is careening down a broken track.

Then I take a deep breath. One day at a time — goes the expression. I can do more with my fears than make jokes/shop/read what I want to read/talk to who I agree with already. I can refuse to give into the temptation to check out and I can look for a way to be of service.

Waking up last month was hard, but staying awake is even harder.