My heart is going out to all the immigrant children (and their families) that I have taught over the years in NYC; to all my gay, black, brown, Muslim, and Jewish friends and colleagues; to all the women who have been harassed, discriminated against, and objectified; and to anyone else who doesn’t feel safe or feels like America voted against THEM in this election.
Dotty’s got your back.
This was the day I decided that it was harmful to my health to be on Facebook. I have never seen so much venom, hate, and rage expressed.
But the scariest thing was how quickly it fueled my own hate and anger.
No good can come of this.
Yes, another sad day.
Full disclosure: I am *CHALLENGED by depression and have been throughout my life. Notice I did not say I “SUFFER” from depression or I “STRUGGLE” with depression (even though I do struggle with it, and do suffer from it.)
Words are powerful. And when I use the words STRUGGLE and SUFFER to describe my experience with depression, it makes me feel all weak and victim-y.
I don’t like to feel weak and victim-y.
I AM A STRONG DEPRESSION-WARRIOR!
It’s not denial. It’s semantics.
*If you are wondering, yes, this election has triggered one of those CHALLENGING periods.
I have to say, I’m pretty proud of that devil.
He’s menacing and cute at the same time. Kind of like me…NOT! (I’m not AT ALL menacing. But I am adorable.)
And that’s an Ivanka Trump bag, in case you didn’t catch that little detail.
I do have an eye for detail.
This was another sad day.
I wasn’t surprised by the results. And not just because of the prescient dream I had the night before doomsday. You see, I come from a sort of red background. I grew up in a blue state, but my town was pretty red growing up. Cows were tipped. Mailboxes were batted at. And people weren’t too accepting of difference or *snobs.
*That’s what progressive liberals were called back then.
For example, in high school I kept it a secret that I shopped at The Gap and enjoyed watching PBS, fearing that I would be shunned or mocked. It was just that kind of place.
Then I had the extreme opposite experience living in New York City as an adult. In New York I felt inadequate because of my “small-town” roots. Because I hadn’t learned the proper way to say Creme Brulee until I was 26. (In case you are wondering, it’s not CREEEM BROOOLEEEE. You can hear the proper pronunciation here.)
I’ve always been a straddler. And a very observant one. So this election didn’t surprise me.
It just saddened me.
Hyperbolic? Perhaps. But I’m not alone. (That’s a link to an article about how depressed this election has made people. Don’t read it if you are already depressed. It will make you more depressed.)
The dream was REAL, my friends. You can’t make this stuff up. Well, I can’t. Maybe your imagination is more bizarre than mine. Maybe it’s easy for you to make up strange and frightening scenarios such as this one. But really, why would you want to? Life is too short. Please go read a book or watch a YouTube video of someone unwrapping Peppa Pig Surprise Eggs instead. Or study dream interpretation here and give me your assessment of this foreboding dream.
