After the election, I spent about 24 hours in complete hysterics, unable to believe what we've done. But then I shut off the valve. I compartmentalized it and focused on work, kids, volunteer jobs. That worked pretty well until this past Friday, when the Inauguration actually happened, and there was no Bobby in the Shower moment that I was hoping for. (If you are not as old as me, you may not understand references to the best Primetime Soap ever in the history of ever, Dallas. Don't talk to me about Knot's Landing. Just don't.)
So. I don't have the words to describe how I felt on Friday, January 20th. But I have gifs.
Yep. That pretty much sums it up.
Yes, I'm equating the actual inauguration of the 45th President of the United States to a woman shitting herself while wearing a wedding dress in the middle of the street. Because it is perfect metaphor for the situation.You know it is coming, you can't escape it, you can't outrun it. It happened. And it made you feel as bad as you imagined.
My grandfather told me when I was young, "Never disrespect the man holding the office of the United States President. You don't have to like him, but you have to respect him while he's in that position."
I tried, with George W. I tried to just groan and look away, but Lord, it was hard, and I am not perfect. I am not as good of a person as my grandfather wanted me to be. I wish I could be. This time, it's even worse, I don't think I can do it. I'm not sure I want to even try.
The Women's March on Washington yesterday helped. I couldn't represent personally, but seeing all the unity on Facebook did make me feel better. It helped me to see that there are a lot of people dedicated to making this situation better. I appreciate that. I haven't yet figured out what I can do to make it better, but I am listening and watching and learning. I've fired off some emails to my congressmen. I've made an effort to like or forward posts from real media sources, or from people whom I trust. I've saved links to refer to later when I'm ready to fight. If America is a big, white wedding dress that could fit all of us with just a few alterations, then we have a big mess to clean up.