I’ve tried to write something tonight several times. What I mean is, I’ve started writing a couple different posts and then become distracted (“Squirrel!”). But when I try to transmute that distraction into a subject of a post, it’s sadly lacking.
I did my civic duty today, acting as Minority Inspector of Elections in our small piece of Bucks County countryside we call our voting ward. For years and years (decades), I’ve been involved in our local elections. It’s always been a great way to greet our neighbors, most of whom we only see in momentary flashes.
Most election days are grueling marathons of attention to detail and nearly constant interaction with people. We begin our days at the crack of dawn (pre-crack, to be honest) and routinely do not get the votes counted and results returned to the Board of Elections until 10:00 p.m. It’s a long day.
Puppy Reprieve
A lot of people who vote at our polling place know Karl and me as ‘the Boston Terrier people.’ In fact, I’ll bet a lot of people who vote at our polls don’t even put two and two together to realize I am one of those Boston Terrier people. My dual roles as puppy walker and election official are probably more parallel tracks than convergent ones. A couple have made the connection over the years though, and our conversations, in particular, have been quite endearing.
There are even a few people who have been so smitten over the years by our dogs that I knew I would have to gently break the news to them today about Spartacus. They may have spied me walking alone recently, but I was sure they never suspected his sudden death.
Beyond showing photos of our newest additions to quell the sadness, Karl even brought Pacha and Brutus over to break up our day and briefly say hello to fellow voters.
Not Much To Say
I’d like to write more this evening, but I must admit to feeling truly tapped out. I’m feeling like a stranger in a foreign land and I’m feeling extremely uneasy as I witness the direction we’re headed.
I can’t honestly wrap my head around the results of today’s election (at least from the vantage point I have at the moment). Perhaps I’ll be able to better comprehend it all tomorrow – although I doubt it.
No amount of puppy snuggles can make it feel more palatable.
I think this photo of Tigger speaks volumes. If you followed the news at all today, in any form – radio, television, FB, Twitter – and if you’re anything like me, you’re probably harboring this declaration as your silently mumbled Election Day (and beyond) strategy: “Take cover!”
And yet, as we all know, that is an essentially unsustainable tack to take. We can and possibly would be advised to run for cover initially, because, well, there’s a decent chance that people are going to get worked up over whatever happens next Tuesday, and they’re almost sure to act out in some way. But taking cover can only suffice so long.
Writing It Out
It’s probably time for us to start mapping out strategies within our own minds as to how we might want to proceed given various potential outcomes. This is where writing in a journal can really be a huge boon to our mental health.
Let’s face it: we’re being faced with what, for many of us, feels like an existential threat. Even as I type those words, I’m reminded how – as real as those words feel to me – how privileged I am to be writing them as a white middle aged woman. (Ew. But facts are facts.) If I’m feeling that the events we’re going to be encountering over the next several days and weeks, if not months and years, are posing an existential threat to me, what in the world must Black and brown people, indigenous people, LGBTQ people, immigrants, and all sorts of other people feel?
When I think about the risks we’re all facing right now, with the hammer of an ultra conservative Supreme Court majority held over our heads, my stomach lurches. I’m afraid for my friends who are married to their same-gendered loves. I’m terrified for all Black people – but especially young Black men (and those who love them) – and the risks they take just by walking down a street or driving in a car. I grieve over the horrific conditions immigrant children (and their parents) find themselves in – here, of all places – when all they sought was escape from untenable circumstances.
What world do we live in? What country are we creating? What really matters?
What Really Matters?
If we give ourselves a little breathing room to actually pin down the thoughts that are careening around in our minds like an old-fashioned pinball machine playing quadruple bonus balls, it helps.
Yes, perhaps we initially, at least furtively, think, “I’ll leave the country.” Well? Write it out. Where would you go (especially now)? How would you support yourself? What would you do with your current abode and all the stuff that’s inside it?
Thinking through your options, and writing them down, clarifies the mind. It also serves to stop the endless stream of thoughts that actually don’t serve you. Details matter. They bring the situation you’re contemplating down from the elusive, broad-brush stroke airy land of threats and idealistic thoughts, to earthy practicality.
If you really think you may want to leave, ask yourself, “What’s my plan?” And listen to the answer that pours out of your fingertips.
If writing out the details makes you realize leaving is too much of a hassle or – equally as possible – you feel a stirring of something else underneath that knee jerk “I’m leaving” reaction, you need to follow that thread.
Does it stick in your craw to imagine abdicating everything you’ve been taught to believe the United States stands for? If so, describe your feelings. What really, truly matters to you? What are you willing to do for those ideals? If nothing else, write it out to yourself.
Our Greatest Hours
Believe it or not, I truly believe our greatest hours may be approaching. I’ve not even the slightest clue what’s going to unfold over the next five days, much less the next five weeks, five months, or five years. But I do have a powerful sense that whatever happens may catalyze all of us into making choices we never dreamed we’d be asked – or forced – to make. We may be called to dig deeply into acting upon what our core values demand of us.
But first, we need to know what those core values are. Not high-and-mighty, lofty ideals. I’m talking nitty gritty, fundamental-to-my-identity, what matters to me most values. Only then can we each decide for ourselves the answer to: what am I willing to do to demand, protect, defend, and advocate for these values?
If we give ourselves the gift of reflecting on these questions over the next several days instead of doom watching or doom scrolling (such eerily and sadly apt phrases), we just might realize that we’re approaching the most important choice points of our lives. Our reasons for being born at this time, in this country, and being faced with these specific challenges may all be coalescing now.
We may be approaching our greatest hours. Let’s prepare.
