sanity has left the building

Can one be simultaneously speechless and have a tornado of words whipping around your brain?

Yes, because that's where I am right this moment. I've cried. I'm crying still. I'm reading social media statuses of friends who don't have the institutional comfort to look like me and my white, husband/wife/biological children family, and I'm feeling scared on their behalf, which then makes me feel guilty and complicit somehow.

the now-familiar sight of circling vultures over our new town felt even more ominous this morning than ever

I want to write, but I don't know what to say. I want to try to feel better by getting these words out, but I fear judgment and ridicule, and I feel guilty all over for simply wanting to feel better. I feel inadequate and fatalistic.

I struggle with depression and anxiety. This is no secret. A little white pill gets popped every morning that has helped tremendously over the last few years, and for major sections of my adult life before this round. On a very personal level, I am struggling now. My tendency toward fatalism in everyday life is tough as it is, right now, it's almost debilitating.

But, I cannot be debilitated, right? I have so many articulate, intelligent, and thoughtful friends and family members who are saying all the right things this morning about the need to not be complacent, about how that has contributed to us being in this moment now. In the last few years, my social media feed has become more and more filled with voices of people who do not check off the same boxes as me on the Census, those who too often find themselves marginalized in our society, and their voices are the ones I want to hear. Help keep me informed of the perspectives of non-white/ LGBTQ/ immigrant Americans. I will help share your voices.

I'm fat and not a fan of physical exertion of any type, so it's difficult for me to get enthused for an uphill battle, even a figurative one. But that's where we are, isn't it?

When I woke my teenager this morning, his first words were, "He won, didn't he?" The younger two, who have heard more than I wanted them to hear during this election campaign, jumped into my bed this morning, all smiles, asking, "Did Hillary Clinton win? She did, right?" They couldn't fathom any answer but yes. I tried to say all the right things to them, too, but I'm not terribly articulate when in a highly charged emotional state. I cried a bit, and I told them that our government has a system that cannot be immediately changed, so it seems safe to say that a lot of what he said during his campaign cannot just be made to happen. "He's going to build that wall, isn't he?" I couldn't say much more than this-- We've got to work even harder now to show the world that hatred is wrong. We need to be kind. We need to speak up when we see injustice around us. We have to show support and love to our friends who may be scared of how this next chapter in our country's history will personally affect them.

We have to rise up. Rise up.

What comes next? What does this mean for those celebrating? What are they celebrating? What does "change" look like to them?

I can't seem to tear myself away from the internet, and every word that I read is like another slice, and I feel so cut and raw right now. I'm sharing articles left and right on FB, and I have no idea if anyone will read them, but I feel like I have to publicly align with them. I must put it out there that this nationalistic fervor that has been stoked by a man of vile character who will be the next leader of our country IS NOT ME. I want record for my children, and my children's children, and so forth, that this turn is not okay with me, and that while I feel helpless and insignificant, I will try my best to fight it.

And that's what I need right now. A plan. I need to know what concrete things to expect, and what tangible things I can do in response. The Supreme Court is likely the first thing I'll mourn in the early stage of this next presidency. What will that mean for civil rights? What will that mean for reproductive rights?

I usually edit my posts carefully, rereading to make sure I've said what I truly meant to say. I rewrite and rework phrases, but I'm not doing that now. This is raw, and as a result, likely a bit rambling with errors that would normally embarrass me to publish. But I want to record this moment exactly as it is in my head. I claim no original, earth-shattering thoughts in this presentation. I know my words are tiny drops in the gigantic bucket of commentary this morning, but I humbly offer them anyway.