The Morning After



2016-11-09-07-59-59

If only we could take a pill that would make the pain go away.  The election of 2016 will forever be remembered for the backlash of bigotry, the monumental misogony and the raw racism of which the mainstream in this century has never known yet what many have faced for their entire lives.  Chances are your facebook friend’s list has changed during this last year.  You have dropped family members and have been dropped by “friends”.  You have shared your thoughts and views using words and phrases you may have never used before.  Certainly not about your own sister, not directed at your cousin, never before to your grandfather let alone all the faceless people you never wished to know on your friend of a friend’s wall.

This is what an election in the new Millennium of anti-Social media looks like.  The tweets are terse and the pain is very real.  I spent much of last night messaging people in my own inner circle who were beyond afraid as the night came to an end.  Trying to reassure frightened soles that everything was going to be okay.

I remembered when I was in college and Ronald Reagan’s helicopter landed on campus during his campaign.  The prospect of a Republican President, a Hollywood actor no less, terrified me.  And I voted my conscious and realized the consequences and subsequently my worst nightmare came true.  With just as many supreme court positions to be up for grab.

It is not the same of course.  But the fear was real and the raw terror of what will happen next is familiar.  I reassured people that we survived Reaganomics and that Trump could in fact do some very positive things for the country.  I said my own father, who I believe to be a good man, had faith in this fellow east coast old school old man for reasons outside the media headlines of hate personified.  That we would be okay.

When the redneck showed me the goosebumps on his arm as we watched CNN and we saw the fate was sealed and we both knew in the back of our silence that he may not be able to get healthcare … we reassured each other that somehow beyond what the eye can see things have a way of working out.  Because we know about statistical improbabilities and Grace from our own personal experience.

And for my fellow disabled friends and family I was reminded and reminded them that this was not the first time we were dealt a blow in our vision of the world.  We know from experience how to work with horrible circumstances and still manage to find happiness along an often dark and lonely road.

Moving forward we can stand together and work to make a better tomorrow.  We can embrace the challenge, rise to the somber occasion and commit to working this out even if we have no idea how that will happen.  We can hold on to hope, continue to believe that Love wins in the end and we will stand up or on one knee to ensure our voice is heard.

As I have said for many years now when someone asks how I am doing …

This is not what I thought fine would look like.  But its perfect.  And I am fine.

And as I turned off the lights I made one more round to reassure my loved ones that everything would be alright.  I smiled and spoke in my best warm words to pass along peace and loving kindness.

Then in the darkness … I cried.

I am sure there is a morning after pill callback to make but utterly to broken inside to make it.

Perfect just doesn’t look like I thought it would.

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