I am so afraid.
I have made myself walk through the last three days since the American election, but my heart is still curled up in my bed weeping like a fourth grader. Like the fourth grader I was, who wept through the night believing we were minutes away from nuclear war. That fear feels the same 35 years later. The tears burn the same way 35 years later. The hopeless "I don't know what to do" sinks me the same way 35 years later.
What's different is that I have children I'm sending into this dark future we face. I'm not just afraid of my own small legs not being able to carry me away from danger. I'm afraid of watching helplessly as my children... I can't. I can't even type it. Oh shit. I'm just so scared.
Another thing's that different is that I know fear does not serve me. No bad thing is deterred because someone thought to be afraid of it before it happened. No good idea is borne of terror. Despair has yet to inspire the next right thing.
So I'm working hard. Scott just got irked that I can't turn off my angst to listen to him talk for two minutes. But he doesn't know how much effort it takes to turn down the volume on the voice in my head saying "you're about to watch the end of the world". He doesn't know how hard it is to stop planning how much food we can pack into the boat, because that's the only thing I can think about that's remotely constructive. How nutritious are fiddleheads anyway?
But every day, I'm going to work a little harder at it. Because hope is our only hope this week. I will hope that I can look up often enough to catch people in the middle of goodness. I will hope that the God I love will grow love in me for the people who were so angry, so disenfranchised, so scared themselves, that they chose this man for their next leader. I will hope that something happens that boosts peace and cooperation back up to the top of the global agenda.
This isn't a pretty piece. Not so eloquent or helpful. Hope in the dark can be ugly like that. But I'm going to keep at it. I'm going to write it down - maybe the rhythm of typing will soothe me.
I'll let you know how it goes.
1 comment:
Hello sweet Allison. Thank you for this. It's actually comforting to know it's not just 50% of Americans who are horrified and saddened (and embarrassed!) by what has happened.
I was on the east coast at a writing conference all this past week, and 99% of us were in the same sad, shocked, scared boat. But I know this: God is good. All the time. I do believe He will use this to shine light on the darkest parts of some Americans' lives.
Our country has a LOT of work to do, and this is a horrible but important wake-up call. I will turn off the radio every time I hear that man's smug, bigoted, misogynistic voice, and I will keep talking to my kids about what we do to help others feel safe when their safety is threatened, and I will try to put myself in opportunities where I can listen to people who voted for this man because they have been ignored over the past sixteen (or more) years. We all need to feel seen and heard, and when we don't, a candidate like Trump is seen as a savior.
This was such a dark week in the U.S. and I shudder for his inauguration on January 20. But I am hopeful and confident that there are still some smart, wise and compassionate people who will keep him in check.
Thank you, friend.
love, love, love,
s
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