I am Canadian, not American. Dismiss what I write if you feel I’m too far removed. But sometimes a bit of distance helps to see things clearer.
Trump will again be president and both houses are likely to be led by Republicans. They will be able to push through much of their agenda. Of course, this is terrible news. It’s disheartening. It feels devastating.
This is a clear loss. And with a loss comes mourning.
I tend to be very invested in politics. Election nights in Canada and in the U.S. have always meant for prime viewing as I watch results come in, listen to the analysis from various sources, take in the pleasant surprises and try to process the disappointments. Early on last Tuesday evening, it didn’t look good. I didn’t do a Déjà-Vu à la 2016, hanging on and watching shocked CNN pundits desperately cling to hope, believing that big city results were still coming in, thinking that the Trump lead in the Electoral College would tip back toward Hillary, making everything right in the end. I remember going to work the next day, being unfocused, witnessing other colleagues express their shock through tears and anger.
2016 prepared me for 2024. I closed my laptop sooner than later. I did a New York Times crossword I’d saved from Sunday. It distracted and brought me silly little triumphs. Yes, 84 Across, I got you! I watched an episode of Heartstopper, lite-fare, heartwarming, a lovely pretend world where every kind of queer is ultimately accepted. Ahead of its time perhaps.
I checked the results in the morning. Ten minutes of scanning and skimming, tops. Why punish myself? I couldn’t change the numbers. I loaded my bike in the back of my Mini Cooper, packed a few things and went on a day trip to Fort Langley, a quaint village forty minutes from Vancouver. I wrote, meandered, rode my bike and did not look at any news for seven hours.
It's not that I blocked out the election results. No, I thought about them quite a lot. But I didn’t expose myself to news sites and social media that would stoke feelings of despair or outrage. I had no raw conversations with friends where our disappointment would build off one another. It was a slower, gentler process of acceptance of a harsh, worst-case reality.
After so many years of therapy and support groups, I actually put into practice a little self-care. That was my own victory.
I was ready to take in more Wednesday night. On social media, I saw many people using the F-word to express themselves. I get it. They were mad. The F-word says so. I saw naïve folks claiming that the F-spewers were falling into the hateful rhetoric they professed to hate. It certainly didn’t advance anything but that wasn’t the point. People let off steam in different ways.
It was more than grief. Abject sadness. Some people said they were stepping away from social media for a while—too much of what, in the moment, was a very bad thing. Sometimes connection is helpful in times of shock and disappointment. Let it out. Let it all out. Sometimes, however, it’s better to postpone what is too hard to process in the moment.
It may feel good to pick a fight with Uncle Bubba or an agitator on Twitter. I can’t see it myself. They’re going to want to boast right now. They’re going to want to pull you in so they can counter all your logic and emotion with one basic sentiment: “Loser!” Sure, sure, names will never hurt you. Maybe you have thicker skin than me.
I truly believe stepping away is a better option. If you can’t take a day trip as I was privileged to do, cut down on your exposure to whatever is going to stoke negative thoughts and emotions over the next weeks. Cut social media down to X minutes per day. (Truly, do you really require more than fifteen minutes? How about ten?) Skim headlines, if you must, but maybe leave it at that. Long ago, I stopped reading articles about murders and crimes I couldn’t do anything about. How would reading do anything but upset me? Was there really anything I could do about a terrible crime that happened in another state or province…or even in my own city? I am better off being less informed in some areas. That may sound awful but having my head in the sand sometimes is an effective coping mechanism.
I think some of those lite, fluffy Christmas movies are already streaming. Make some popcorn and watch one. (Or re-watch episodes of Heartstopper. Seriously.)
I laughed steadily throughout Ellen’s stand-up special on Netflix. Channel into a comedian who makes you laugh. It’s such a great release of stress.
People need to recover because, while the election results are in, the fight is far from over. A vote is a right and a privilege, but there are so many other ways to actively participate in constructive ways to affect change.
While some recover, others are already taking time to reflect and rebuild. More of that, plus direct actions are to come.
Please take care of yourself for now. Get yourself in a better space. Avoid Uncle Bubba. (You won’t change him; he won’t change you.) When you’re ready, there will be next steps. Your voice and your presence will be needed and valued.
For now, let Mr. Bean amuse you; allow cat (or puppy) videos to tug at your heart; listen to a rage song on your headphones as you take it up an extra level on an exercise bike; ask a friend for a hug; jump in a pile of leaves; take a silly selfie; make chocolate chip cookies (and save some dough for an ice cream add-in); close the blinds and do a geeky dance to an extended play of a disco song; get a temporary tattoo of something that will look passé by next week; pay the two bucks for guac in your Chipotle burrito; buy an adult coloring book and complete a page, maybe even going outside the lines; clean your oven (it’s never a good time, but you’ll feel good when it’s done); knit a scarf or just a blob with weird holes in it; contact that friend you’ve been saying you should message for six months now; get a facial; buy a new plant, name it and apologize in advance in case you kill it (but don’t); sweat it out in the sauna; do a cold plunge (not really); read a favorite comic from childhood; listen to a couple of Grammy-nominated songs you’ve never heard of; sit on a park bench and people watch (without being creepy); and go to bed early.
Recovery is good for you.
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