The Day After

I’ve never awakened to the first thought of my day being, Was it just a nightmare? Today I did. I stumbled through my morning routine then went for a run. I listened to an episode of Rob Bell’s podcast on lament. Yes, I needed to lament.

I broke down in the shower. I cried out of sadness and fear. I cried because if I were the same person I was eight years ago, I would’ve voted differently than I did yesterday. I cried because I’ve been in therapy for five years trying to heal from childhood wounds inflicted by men whose behavior was similar to the behavior our President-Elect exhibited throughout his campaign. I cried because I used to be an evangelical and can understand where their political views are coming from. I cried because even though I’ve been out of the evangelical church for three years, I still feel pain from the severing. I cried because every time I’ve seen Mr. Trump spew vitriol, I’ve been reminded of the vitriol I grew up experiencing. I cried because I can’t properly express myself without people I know getting offended and accusing me of casting stones. I cried because eight years ago, I would’ve accused someone who voted differently than me of the same thing.

I tried to take a nap, hoping that sleep would settle my emotions. Instead, I sat on the couch and thought about how I grew up knowing men in church who were verbally, emotionally, and spiritually abusive. I thought about how the evangelical church doesn’t think twice about those same men being in positions of power, reducing non-compliant men, women, and children to being the walking dead. I thought about friends who are minorities and the fear they’ve expressed about America’s future.

I ran outside this evening to capture the brilliant sunset. It was a beautiful ending to a difficult day. I needed today to lament, to process, to feel. Tomorrow, I will begin accepting our new reality. I will hope for the best.