Post-Electoral Dissociation and Supermoon
I never realized until today that dissociation can occur on a spectrum. I always imagined that it was mostly a blacking-out of consciousness that you’d never remember later.
This afternoon, however, I realized that dissociation is exactly what I’ve been doing leading up to, and since, the election. Dissociation is when your psyche protects itself by shutting down connections to your emotions and physical experience; it’s also probably why I’ve felt so incredibly spacey since Tuesday. I’ve had trouble concentrating, focusing, remembering simple things, and accomplishing simple tasks. When I felt the urge to cry or lament, I stuffed it down. It’s what I had to do to get through work, to keep doing school work, to handle the task of living with a Trump supporter.
I’ve tried getting centered and grounded through meditation, through tarot, through yard work, through talking with friends, and none of it’s working. I’m just floating.
Tonight, however, I’m determined to get back into my body, even if it means giving myself space for rage and mourning. (Even as I type that, I feel myself withdrawing, thinking, “No, no, I do not want to spend that much time mourning or having to hold that much anger, I’m not ready yet.”)
Tomorrow is the full moon, a supermoon closer to the earth than it’s been since the 1940s, and I think it’s fitting. The moon (filed under “yin” in the Yin and Yang philosophy of ancient China) is about the unconscious, chaotic inner workings of our emotional experiences. She’s saying, “What will you do now? Will you finally look deeply within? Will you sort out these emotions or just keep stuffing them into the sack you carry on your back all day?”
Tonight I’ll build a small fire and light several sticks of incense in the ground for my ancestors, and the ancestors of this land, and I’ll pray like hell that I have what it takes to do what needs doing. I’ll pray for the fear and anxiety that grips me to be channeled into courage and movement. I’ll pray for my ancestors to rally around me and my beloveds to protect us, so that we can do the work. I’ll pray for the way to be made clear to me. I’ll pray for dreams. I’ll stare into the flames, letting them burn away what continues to block me from doing what needs done.
The wound is open, now. For centuries, we’ve simply let it fester, covering it up and trying to hide it. Now the infection and the blood are beginning to flow. If you’re white, like me, and this is the first time you’ve felt tangible dread and fear inside your very body concerning your physical safety in the world now, I invite you to consider that this is how a lot of people of color feel every single day. Now we know. Now we act.
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