Life of Wry

I’m blogging.

I say that because it means I’m not doing this other thing… watching the Republican National Convention. I’d planned not to watch it.. and was successful in that plan last night (night #1).

Then, I thought.. really? You’re that tender? (Yes.) I allowed myself, however, to listen to post convention analysis. Which was rough enough. All day long today, the news has reported this thing or that thing. My Facebook feed’s been full of commentary from friends and folks whose analyses I trust.  I’ve tentatively watched a couple of clips that people have posted.. and pretty soon, I’ve seen more than I wanted.

So… here I am again, actively not watching.

Earlier today, I was invited to join a friend’s political discussion group (via Zoom) later this week. I had to think about that one.. but declined. I’m deeply immersed in the politics of the day. I volunteer more hours than I can count with Sister District and Indivisible Yolo. Lately, the work has taken on an urgency. We are getting sharper in our focus as we get within 70 days of the election. We are letting certain organizational details slide as we prioritize work that directly contributes to voter and/or election impact. The urgency brings attendant stress.

When I walk with Vicki, the conversation inevitably turns to the election. I hear in my voice an urgency and a definite fear. What if… ? What little amount of socializing I do these days inevitably includes a hefty dose of political freak out. This is so exhausting.

Many urgencies!

I remember the 2016 election. Even though people were considering the possibility that he could win, nobody thought he would. Celebration watch parties were everywhere. Lots of friends suggested watching the returns together. With champagne at the ready. But I was too stressed. I felt too traumatized by the campaign and just wanted to burrow down into my little cave office and watch the returns alone (with my glass of wine). I wanted to work my websites and my cable news feeds and just watch and celebrate at my own pace.  Because the campaign was brutal. He was brutal. Assaultive to everything I value. I was desperate for Hillary to win but also knew that when she did, I’d have to turn that page slowly, as I was ready. I luxuriated in the idea that after a year (or two?) of his toxicity and his unbearable psychoses, it would finally all be over and we would be liberated from all that angst, and we’d have a woman president. We’d wake up the next day to a world free of that monster, but there was also a lot to recover from. I knew it would take a little time to get all the toxins out. We all needed a giant cleansing.

But she lost. (Asterisk, not really.)

We’ve had to endure him for far too long and the damage he’s wreaked is incalculable. In our nation, in the world, and in our souls.

I don’t enjoy the politics of this anymore. I don’t enjoy the lively political conversation. It’s too uneven a field. And especially now.. the intellectual sparring is tedious, joyless. Especially as we’re getting closer and closer to a reckoning. I feel too fragile, too vulnerable. What if it’s bad again?

So I declined the invitation to talk to strangers about politics. I’m not sure I can open up to a circle unfamiliar, in the middle of a political world that makes me feel so vulnerable already. Not sure I want any more people in my tender little inner world.

I think we are all traumatized by his alternative realities, and lies, and bizarro world constructs. His bottomless corruption and ugliness. I need peace. I need liberation from him and his entire freak show. I need to see him marched off to prison. Then I might feel safe and grounded again.

~~

Tonight’s sweet bird shot:

I don’t have to tell you, this is not my photo. Again, I found it on a site, can’t remember where. The photo won an award, can’t tell you which one. And it’s by a photographer I can’t identify.. because I neglected to collect that info. Terribly sorry… he/she deserves recognition.

But I do love how this little guy is just singing for all he’s worth. Such happiness. Let’s make that a metaphor for November 4th