Are You Okay?

I texted my big brother this morning at 5:15.

I’m not sure I want to walk this morning or ever leave my house again.

He cajoled me out of my house and we had a therapeutic walk around the reservoir. I don’t know how to measure the feelings of fear, withering disappointment, embarrassment for my naiveté and delusion that I was in such a happy worker bee bubble – didn’t see that all around me were voters with a different agenda. Where I had felt grounded and optimistic about moving forward, now suddenly I feel unmoored and lost. I know I’m not alone, but somehow that doesn’t help so much right now.

As I turned onto my street this morning, I saw a man on a scooter who was just entering the crosswalk and I couldn’t see him in relation to my car, so I pulled to the far side and stopped my car so as to not hit him. He then ran into my right rear panel. He threw up his arms in angry exasperation and then continued to my left side.

Terrified that I’d hurt him, I rolled my window down and said “Are you okay?” Perhaps after seeing my Harris/Walz bumper sticker, rather than being angry, he repeated the same question to me. “Are You okay?” I nodded mutely, then said “I’m sorry, man.” He rolled off on his scooter and I turned into my driveway, the tears beginning to well up in my eyes.

Am I okay? No, I’m not okay. Not just because I’ve engaged more wholeheartedly in this electoral process only to discover that I was severely deluded about how other Americans were voting. Because I have two young granddaughters who are five and eight and we now find ourselves in a country where their future seems unsure. Where their president thinks he has their best interests in mind if they don’t have to ever vote again and god forbid, ever make decisions for themselves about their medical paths. With the potential of naming four more supreme court justices and backed by a republican congress that will support whatever he wants to do.

By the time I had slotted my car into my parking space, I was having a good old ugly and questionably therapeutic cry. No amount of PQ (positive intelligence) training will yet allow me to see what is good in this scenario. I am in full on grief mode.

I will get there. We will get there. I feel plugged into a strong community of doers and workers and positive individuals who I know feel the same way I do about our country’s future.

For those in a similar place to mine, I follow the instructions I am reading from others – be kind to yourselves and take deep breaths. Find your purpose for doing what is needed in the community and world.