The Day After the Election<\/h1>\n

Last night I felt the same as when McGovern lost in 1972, although then my 17-year-old self sobbed and sobbed, and now I am too shocked to feel much of anything. It was unthinkable that McGovern could lose. It meant the cataclysmic Vietnam War would continue, with thousands more pointless deaths, a country ruined further.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember how my parents reacted. Probably my mother cried and cursed at the TV. Probably they tried to comfort me, sharing my horror and grief, assuring me that the good fight must continue.<\/p>\n

Now it is my daughters seeking comfort via text in these inconsolable times. I don’t know what to say, but my husband does. He writes:<\/p>\n

We are incredibly fortunate to have a loving, healthy, prosperous family whose members have strong and good values. By always cherishing and building on this, we can prevent those who appeal to hatred and divisiveness from defeating us.<\/p>\n

Love, Daddy<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The morning after the election I tell my husband\u00a0I haven\u2019t felt this bad since 9\/11 (although thankfully, 11\/9 has not entailed such a horrible loss of life). At least the earlier trauma was mitigated by a brief feeling of unity, of the best in the world coming forth to vanquish the worst. Not so now, though that\u2019s what I hunger for. I stay away from the news, but I relish the lingering hellos I exchange with every woman I pass, the conversations with the regulars in Comforts, a string of texts and emails. All of my therapy clients talk about the election. It’s good to be distracted by work, to hold their feelings as they mingle with my own.<\/p>\n

Three Days Out<\/h1>\n

Maria, the woman who was born in El Salvador and now cleans our house, comes on Fridays. Three days after the election, I open the door to greet her. As always, she is wreathed in smiles, ready to work.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrump\u2014Lo Siento!\u201d I say. I\u2019m sorry.<\/em> Maria\u2019s smile crumples a bit; she gravely nods.<\/p>\n

This Friday is also Veteran\u2019s Day. Since school is closed, Maria\u2019s American-born daughter is with her. I ask her a bit about school, what grade she\u2019s in, how she likes it.<\/p>\n

Then I ask, \u201cHow are you doing? Are kids afraid?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome are,\u201d she responds.<\/p>\n

A couple of days later I check out the Facebook page of a racial justice organization I\u2019m considering joining. Someone has posted an essay<\/a> telling white people that their professions of shock and disbelief, even their apologies, to people of color are microaggressions.<\/p>\n

I feel hopeless in a different way.<\/p>\n

Later Still\u00a0. . .<\/h1>\n

It gets worse as the shock wears off. I\u2019ve had difficult sleeping; I drift off only to wake again to\u00a0the cold pit in my stomach, \u201cOMG, Trump was elected President!\u201d<\/em> flashing in neon lights in my head. Then a squall of tears, and my husband\u00a0holds me, his warm body a blanket of comfort. I sigh that broken sigh of someone who needs to cry but can\u2019t quite. The tears come again in the morning as I read the paper, the headlines indisputable. A climate change denier is announced to head the EPA\u2019s transition team. I cry a little in the shower. Finally, several days\u00a0out, I manage more than a brief squall. My husband\u00a0holds me again, and at last I sleep better.<\/p>\n

It feels wrong to sleep better.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

How are you doing post-election? Also, a kind reader sent along this link, which expresses what I’ve also been feeling:\u00a0http:\/\/johnpavlovitz.com\/2016\/11\/17\/if-you-voted-for-him\/<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Day After the Election Last night I felt the same as when McGovern lost in 1972, although then my 17-year-old self sobbed and sobbed, and now I am too shocked to feel much of anything. It was unthinkable that … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":true,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Thoughts on the Aftershock\r\nAftermath","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[3,8],"tags":[552,562],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2F8Ch-sR","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1789"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1789"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1789\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1801,"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1789\/revisions\/1801"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1789"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1789"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shrinkrapped.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1789"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}