This is perfect - I've also been quarrelling with my husband this week - we are both rattled to our cores and punchy. Partly because husband prefers to doom scroll and re-hash/discuss what ifs 24/7, whereas I am in recovery mode, trying to claw my way out of all this darkness (And we're Canadian!) I feel such genuine sorrow and deep compassion for what so many are experiencing, especially as women. Substack again has provided good advice and a sense of community. Thank you for this, so much.
Spending much more time in nature and offline is helping me through this moment. Counting the baby ducks following their mama in the local park. Breathing in, breathing out. The world keeps turning.
Thank you for this, Lisa. So many things to quote. But the two that resonated the most were, "The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving." this is exactly how I feel. And this, "The promise I’m making to myself in this new Trump era is that he gets no piece of me."
That's exactly where I am. I've been preparing for weeks to not let this outcome take anything more from me. I still get to experience joy and love and hope and whatever else I want to experience. But Trump does not get any more of my time and energy. The people I love, the things I love, those get my time and attention. And when we all recover enough to make a plan for moving through this, I will be there, ready to do this together.
That so many of us are determined to build and turn toward the things we love rather than allow that man to recruit us into his carnival of hatred and horrors… that’s deeply hopeful. THAT’S what I’m not going back to. I can’t control much, but I can definitely control that.
I am sending thank-you notes (actual paper, in envelopes with stamps and everything!) to my friends who worked so hard canvassing, at voter registration tables, and at the polls. While I'm writing the notes my soul is calm and thankful, even amidst the wreckage.
Thank you for including me here with all of these beautiful, heartfelt, brokenhearted pieces. I know we will persevere because we have to, but right now it seems most of us are battered and shattered and of course we are. So I am just being gentle with myself and taking some time to process. And I am also taking solace in words, both the ones I’m reading and the ones I’m writing, I’m staying in my pajamas as long as I want to if I don’t have a reason I can’t, I’m showing up for my kids and my people, and I’m nursing myself back to life.
We’ve got this, but maybe right now instead of riding at dawn we all just need to let ourselves weep, rage, and despair, and take comfort in solidarity. We deserve better than this and it’s okay to not be okay right now. It would be weird if we were okay. That’s pretty much where I am. Sending you hugs from Santa Monica x
Thank you for writing such a beautiful brokenhearted piece! And I'm so sorry about your dog. I experienced the same gasping-for-air nightmare with my sweet Evie a few years ago and it's so hard. Life is just so damned hard, but also somehow gorgeous? 💚
Thank you so much, and I’m so very sorry about your Evie, too💔😔 I am trying to think about the twelve years of good memories, and not his last day and last hour. It’s hard in the beginning, I know it will get easier. I’ve lost both parents in the last few years, too, and I guess I am at that part of life when so much loss is part of the mix. It breaks your heart, but it breaks it open and there is something beautiful about that. I wouldn’t miss this ride for anything even if it gets really dark sometimes. I’m doing my best to focus on the places where kindness exists in abundance. And your comments are certainly part of that ❤️Hugs across the interwebs.
We are not going back- period.. They cannot break our spirits nor take our dignity away. We will not only keep our hard-earned freedoms but will rise up and take back what they’ve stolen. We will do whatever it takes to reclaim this country and once again set it on its proper path- women will unite again and rise up to heights we can only dream of right now… I feel it in my heart..
Thank you for this, and yes to all of it. To answer your question, this is what I wrote the day after, and it’s still the best I can do in the moment:
I feel hollowed out, like a gutted pumpkin about to become a jack-o-lantern. It’s the day after the election, and like most women in this country, I am utterly devastated. It feels like a new kind of hangover worse than any involving vodka or wine.
Like so many, I am sad, angry, scared. Things seem hopeless, and I feel helpless. How do you reconcile the fact that the majority of the country does not give a shit about my daughter’s right to make decisions about her own body or my son’s right to marry a man that he loves? That a convicted felon, sex offender and insurrectionist can escape justice in the most spectacular way? It’s too much. Overwhelming in a visceral way.
I’ve commiserated with my friends and family (the likeminded ones anyway). Even as a blueberry in the tomato soup of Texas, you find your people. Other than this, I have no magic weapon to obliterate the despair that’s sinking like a stone inside me. I can only do what I feebly offered to my kids this morning. Keep putting one foot in front of the other and go to gratitude.
So on this day that feels like drowning, I take in the trees outside my house that are still bursting with every shade of green in November. I savor the cool, creamy comfort of chocolate ice cream (the only thing I’ve eaten all day) as it slides down my throat. I burrow my fingers into the thick fur of my sidekick dog and rub the spiky whiskers of my sofa-sharing cat. I’m grateful for the sanctuary of my home and the flowers on my kitchen island. The perfect lavender color of my socks. The vibrant blue sky and beginning of fall temperatures. The swoop of the bird flying past my window. The friends and family who also understand what has been lost. The fact that this election is at least over. The way my tear glistens in the light as it falls from my face.
Thank you, thank you. I'm in my theater class (they are working on their essays) and I am sitting here crying silent tears and this has been happening all the time this week. Grateful for your writing and the writing that you shared and amplified for us. It's everything right now.
This is perfect - I've also been quarrelling with my husband this week - we are both rattled to our cores and punchy. Partly because husband prefers to doom scroll and re-hash/discuss what ifs 24/7, whereas I am in recovery mode, trying to claw my way out of all this darkness (And we're Canadian!) I feel such genuine sorrow and deep compassion for what so many are experiencing, especially as women. Substack again has provided good advice and a sense of community. Thank you for this, so much.
Spending much more time in nature and offline is helping me through this moment. Counting the baby ducks following their mama in the local park. Breathing in, breathing out. The world keeps turning.
Thank you for this, Lisa. So many things to quote. But the two that resonated the most were, "The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving." this is exactly how I feel. And this, "The promise I’m making to myself in this new Trump era is that he gets no piece of me."
That's exactly where I am. I've been preparing for weeks to not let this outcome take anything more from me. I still get to experience joy and love and hope and whatever else I want to experience. But Trump does not get any more of my time and energy. The people I love, the things I love, those get my time and attention. And when we all recover enough to make a plan for moving through this, I will be there, ready to do this together.
That so many of us are determined to build and turn toward the things we love rather than allow that man to recruit us into his carnival of hatred and horrors… that’s deeply hopeful. THAT’S what I’m not going back to. I can’t control much, but I can definitely control that.
I am sending thank-you notes (actual paper, in envelopes with stamps and everything!) to my friends who worked so hard canvassing, at voter registration tables, and at the polls. While I'm writing the notes my soul is calm and thankful, even amidst the wreckage.
Thank you for including me here with all of these beautiful, heartfelt, brokenhearted pieces. I know we will persevere because we have to, but right now it seems most of us are battered and shattered and of course we are. So I am just being gentle with myself and taking some time to process. And I am also taking solace in words, both the ones I’m reading and the ones I’m writing, I’m staying in my pajamas as long as I want to if I don’t have a reason I can’t, I’m showing up for my kids and my people, and I’m nursing myself back to life.
We’ve got this, but maybe right now instead of riding at dawn we all just need to let ourselves weep, rage, and despair, and take comfort in solidarity. We deserve better than this and it’s okay to not be okay right now. It would be weird if we were okay. That’s pretty much where I am. Sending you hugs from Santa Monica x
Thank you for writing such a beautiful brokenhearted piece! And I'm so sorry about your dog. I experienced the same gasping-for-air nightmare with my sweet Evie a few years ago and it's so hard. Life is just so damned hard, but also somehow gorgeous? 💚
Thank you so much, and I’m so very sorry about your Evie, too💔😔 I am trying to think about the twelve years of good memories, and not his last day and last hour. It’s hard in the beginning, I know it will get easier. I’ve lost both parents in the last few years, too, and I guess I am at that part of life when so much loss is part of the mix. It breaks your heart, but it breaks it open and there is something beautiful about that. I wouldn’t miss this ride for anything even if it gets really dark sometimes. I’m doing my best to focus on the places where kindness exists in abundance. And your comments are certainly part of that ❤️Hugs across the interwebs.
We are not going back- period.. They cannot break our spirits nor take our dignity away. We will not only keep our hard-earned freedoms but will rise up and take back what they’ve stolen. We will do whatever it takes to reclaim this country and once again set it on its proper path- women will unite again and rise up to heights we can only dream of right now… I feel it in my heart..
And So Be It!! 🌙✨💫⭐️⚡️
I so hope you're right! 🙏💚
Thank you for this, and yes to all of it. To answer your question, this is what I wrote the day after, and it’s still the best I can do in the moment:
I feel hollowed out, like a gutted pumpkin about to become a jack-o-lantern. It’s the day after the election, and like most women in this country, I am utterly devastated. It feels like a new kind of hangover worse than any involving vodka or wine.
Like so many, I am sad, angry, scared. Things seem hopeless, and I feel helpless. How do you reconcile the fact that the majority of the country does not give a shit about my daughter’s right to make decisions about her own body or my son’s right to marry a man that he loves? That a convicted felon, sex offender and insurrectionist can escape justice in the most spectacular way? It’s too much. Overwhelming in a visceral way.
I’ve commiserated with my friends and family (the likeminded ones anyway). Even as a blueberry in the tomato soup of Texas, you find your people. Other than this, I have no magic weapon to obliterate the despair that’s sinking like a stone inside me. I can only do what I feebly offered to my kids this morning. Keep putting one foot in front of the other and go to gratitude.
So on this day that feels like drowning, I take in the trees outside my house that are still bursting with every shade of green in November. I savor the cool, creamy comfort of chocolate ice cream (the only thing I’ve eaten all day) as it slides down my throat. I burrow my fingers into the thick fur of my sidekick dog and rub the spiky whiskers of my sofa-sharing cat. I’m grateful for the sanctuary of my home and the flowers on my kitchen island. The perfect lavender color of my socks. The vibrant blue sky and beginning of fall temperatures. The swoop of the bird flying past my window. The friends and family who also understand what has been lost. The fact that this election is at least over. The way my tear glistens in the light as it falls from my face.
This is beautiful, Leslie, thanks for sharing. 💚
Thanks for this great and helpful list, Lisa. Saving it and coming back here again and again.
Thank you, thank you. I'm in my theater class (they are working on their essays) and I am sitting here crying silent tears and this has been happening all the time this week. Grateful for your writing and the writing that you shared and amplified for us. It's everything right now.
💙💙💙
Thank you, Lisa. Lots of healing thoughts here.
Happy New Grandchild, Lisa. How wonderful.
I've been thinking about you all week. There is nothing to say. Hugs from a woman half way across the globe x
Thank you, Lisa. Reading what is nourishing to the soul helps now. I haven't let much else in.
Thank you for this.