Athena: Shock

Augustine,

I slept for a total of about two hours last night. I kept waking up, hoping it had been a nightmare. Hoping that things didn't turn out the way they did. That Pennsylvania in particular hadn't broken my heart.

I wrote a post addressing my Republican friends. Urging them to reach out and denounce the hatred of their candidate amidst their victory. I wrote a letter to my students letting them know that they could reach out to me if needed. A few did.

But I can't watch Clinton's speech yet (she deserved so much better. It kills me the most thinking about her right now), or any of the other speeches. I've formulated plans of action in my mind, but the reality is...

I'm grieving. I am grieving. For Clinton, for the Dems (we lost so much more than just the Presidency this time around), especially for my friends who are in terror, for our country, for our citizens and our democracy. For myself.

I'm grieving personally too. It seems like a small thing in the midst of everything else, but my aunt and uncle are divorcing after almost 30 years of marriage...and that's a death too. It's figuring out how to say goodbye in a certain sense, to a person who has been a part of my life since I can remember, and who will no longer exist in my life in the same way at all...and will likely eventually hang out. There's more to that story, but I mention it because it's a parallel grief (Odd fact: this is the uncle whose sweater you have)

I'm still honest-to-God just stunned. I don't know how any of this makes sense, how this could possibly have happened. If the election had been a week ago, maybe, but emails were cleared up and polling dramatically increased, and I felt safe again. And I voted because I knew I wasn't safe enough to be complacent, but I honestly thought that my fears were just anxiety. I thought on one level that it just couldn't possibly happen. Not this time, not with this particular candidate.

I'm bewildered, and I want to cry and eat a lot of ice cream. I keep forgetting to eat, forgetting to move. Instead, I'm sending messages of love and support to my friends--but there are no words. And I want to talk about it, and do nothing but talk about it and figure out how to fix things and make plans and survive for four years, but I also can't because it still feels completely overwhelming and surreal.

So I think of Mr. Rogers. And I ask myself how I can be a good neighbor. And I hope and pray that I can figure out how to protect them.

+Athena