I bet I am not the only person who is running internal inventory, trying to understand why things feel so bad. Where to even begin?
This last week has taken our nation deeper into hellfire than I thought possible. However, I really want to measure why this, this, THIS is so suffocating.
I turn to an idea that has worked for me over the years – the differential. It is not one point vs another. It is the distance between them and the time that transpired to discover the space traveled.
Two years ago, no one expected anything like what we are now living with every day. No one could ever have predicted that a deranged man would have a majority of boot-licking courtiers in Congress. Today, explicit acts of hate are unleashed, celebrated and expected; heroic actually.
But even in this ghoulish nightmare of devil advocacy, something more is needling me. I think that the anniversary, of how I felt two years ago is the gravest differential I have ever traveled. Regardless of how anyone feels about Sec. Clinton, two years ago I was dreaming that a gigantic change was in the making. On the second Tuesday of November, 2016, I believed Roe would be secure, Women in office would be “normalized,” the next four years would build to crescendo of celebrating the Centennial of the Vote. Women would begin awakening to true potential.
Back to why this is feeling like death itself. It is not that I am disappointed that my candidate lost. It is not that I am a democrat and GOP is in control. It is nothing happening specifically. My pain lives in the distance between what I thought my 68 years were leading to and that, in fact, a nazi, narcissist with his enrolled thugs are moving at lightning speed disassembling human rights. This river is wider than I thought was possible to cross.
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