A Day Of Processing

I, like many, could barely sleep post election results. It was beyond surreal. And while my anger and fear and hurt were something volatile, it needed to be unleashed very much how it had been.

Nearly broke my hand, I believe. But I didn’t. I remained hurting internally, riding out the buzz of turmoil, hurt for my loved ones, and fear roiling in what is to come.

And then I lay under blankets, dosing until my alarm brought me back to the reality. To which I’m surprised I managed to attend class.

I’m glad I did. While a brief, tiny section of only a few of us- it was healing. We all felt in some way that foreboding fear and anxiety of what’s to come next.

I sipped away at some tea, enjoying the company of quiet reflection among peers.

I meant to attend an orchestra concert tonight, but I was so tired and reclusive and wanting to stay in…

Anyway. Spent my afternoon blasting positive music. Because the hate had deviated, the contemplation and reflection to process the impact of this election, the power of integrity and kindness, and how many people have each other’s backs.

I’ve been attacked earlier, online, by old friends. Offended by the backlash about explaining to friends who are minority, or women, or part of LGBTQ, or muslim- and explain why they don’t matter by electing an entire campaign demoralizing them. By electing a candidate with a running mate with an atrocious track record for women’s rights and gay rights and everything else tacked in as well.

How dare I share a post about it. How dare I insult them when I’m trying to hold my friends together who are deeply afflicted. One of my very best friends rushed in to submit an application for her passport, as a precaution to this mayhem.

The fact that one of them had the audacity to justify the rights of minorities is worth sacrificing to “save America”, has left me with zero respect. I cannot hate them. For their arrogance and ignorance I cannot change. My nearly endless patience still won’t put a dent into their stubborn resilience.

But it has brought me to reflection, that such behavior I will not lower myself to. I will not hate. I will not scream. I will not rage.

I turn my back, as I pull into myself to reflect a little more, and allow time to process and heal what has happened.

The riots, the burst in hate crimes in 24 hours’ time…

I will not rage. But I will not sit idly by. Upon my graduation, I will retract into myself back home. I will contemplate, and calculate, to iterate my decision in how I will use with my time come the new year. Once that has passed, I suppose I’ll make a note that I won’t tolerate this behavior.

That I will not hate. But I will not stand idly by. This divide will ruin us. Regardless of what happens in office for the following four years, we cannot be divided any longer.

But for now, I’ll pull back and process. Grieve, fear, breathe, and mend.

Mend, everyone. Reach out with a kind gesture; even a smile.

It’ll all be okay if we do not leave every man, woman, and child to fend on their own in the chaos.

For now, though, let us heal quietly; together.

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