Started writing 11/9/16
… along with many of you.
I did not watch the returns last night. Instead, I relied on my friend to give me the information when something big happened. At one point, on a trip to the kitchen for a Diet Coke, I saw the map of the United States. And it was bleeding.
I was horrified.
By the time I went to bed at 1am, I knew what the outcome was going to be. And it wasn’t in our favor.
I was on Tumblr with hundreds of others, looking periodically at Facebook, and could see the emotional turmoil the results were causing, hearing murmurs that turned to cries, saying they wanted to die… that life without Obamacare, without LGBTQI+ rights, without mental health care, without disability services, without honoring a woman’s choice to abortion and birth control, knowing that people of color and Muslims wore targets on their backs, that the closing of our borders might mean not seeing family or friends for many (far too many) years.
I went into helper mode. I reblogged Help Lines, Hot Lines, Text Suicide Prevention Lines, messaged those who seemed especially desperate, left comments on several posts that expressed extreme despair and pain.
I did not cry.
I went to bed at 3:30am, slept eh… not the best… and got up for the day at 9am. I had to do errands and knew I wanted to wear black today, expressing my mourning for what could have been. I took a shower, put makeup on and then draped myself in black from head to toe, including earrings and bracelet.
I headed to Costco and was there at opening. I use the electric cart thingie and cruised around thinking, “Hmmm, you haven’t cried one tear over this. Maybe your head-in-the-sand trick of not watching the news lately has made you more in-the-moment than you thought!”
And then I was at the prepared cold foods part of the store and stopped from getting to the chicken I need for the dogs by a woman with her toddler poring over the enchiladas. She apologized and I told her I was in no hurry, to take her time. Then I kinda mumbled something about THE ELECTION and not having anywhere to go… and she groaned. She asked me if I could believe what happened and I said I could not, that I was baffled by what happened.
I said to her, “I never knew there was so much hate around me.” She did not answer (she is black). Being femme and white, I pass (too fucking much for my taste at the moment) and told her I was lesbian and had brown children so I feel some of their hate, too.
Then I started crying. She pulled her toddling daughter over with her and stepped towards me, putting one arm around my shoulder. I apologized saying I hadn’t cried one tear until that moment. And I looked up and she was crying! I reached up and we held each other crying for probably a minute or so. It was so tender. I can still smell her scent.
I had to drive 70 minutes to the Endocrinologist after Costco and on the drive I had a thought.
When I was shopping, riding around on the electric cart, I found myself scowling… even feeling anger… towards the older white men I passed (and yes, I know, white women voted for him, too). I inwardly cursed at them, angry that they voted for that horrid man. Quite unlike me as I do not typically make negative snap judgments like that.
In the car, I thought I might have had the softest of whispers of what blacks must feel about white people. Blacks most certainly have cacophonous explosions compared to my measly sigh, but it was enlightening.
And I will not forget.
Once I got to the doctor’s office, I sat reading Facebook, then suddenly burst into tears. Luckily I had some napkins and blubbered as I fished them out of my purse. I tried not to make noise, but the crying became unruly and a woman came up and asked if I was okay. I sobbed and said, “I’m in mourning,” and left it at that. She touched my shoulder and went to sit down. After a few minutes, another woman came to see if I was okay. Did I need the doctor? “I’m in mourning.”
Thankfully soon after they came and took me in the back (the receptionist might have sent an SOS!) and I was able to get control of myself before seeing the Nurse Practitioner.
(Writing now 11/10/16)
I didn’t fall apart again yesterday until later that night.
What a day it was.