About That Election…

America, you just elected a man who is scary to a whole helluva lot of people.

(originally posted as Facebook Note on November 9, 2016)

Monday, November 8, 2016

It dawned on me this morning why I was so obsessed with the election results. I don’t mean just last night, either. I watched all day.

I’ll be honest – I haven’t actually sat and watched any cable news channels since about March 2004 (that was the year I left my marriage). Yesterday, after about 30 minutes of listening to a live stream of one of the news stations, I realized I couldn’t. Couldn’t stand to hear the talking heads. Apparently that’s one of my triggers.

So I went back to obsessively refreshing the webpages.

And as the results came in and Trump’s wins piled up, I felt worse.

Shaky.

Sick.

Clammy.

I finally closed all of the election-related browser windows and started researching which English-speaking countries were the easiest for an American to immigrate to.

When Canada’s immigration website crashed, I gave up and went to bed.

It wasn’t until I woke up this morning that I finally recognized what I’d been feeling all day yesterday and into the night.

Tuesday, November 9, 2016

I’m willing to bet everything I have that the overwhelming majority of the people who voted for Trump in this country have never been in an abusive relationship.

They’ve never been sexually harassed.

They’ve never been physically harassed.

They’ve never been on the receiving end of sexism or racism.

And while a small part of me thinks that’s great (come on – that means there are people out there who have never been abused!), the rest of me is sitting here in bed, too physically ill to get up and go to work.

Because I HAVE been in an abusive relationship. And hindsight being what it is, I CAN see all the signs that were there at the beginning of that relationship. The things I wasn’t able to see 20 years ago.
And America, guess what?

You just got in bed with a narcissistic, sexist, misogynistic, xenophobic, and racist abuser.

Sure, he sweet talked you. He told you just how shitty your life is and how much better it would be if you were with him. He bought you roses and candy.

And you fell for it.

You were warned.

We showed you all the signs.

We told you what was going to happen.

But you refused to listen.

As a collective entity, you, America, just did what any sullen teenage girl would do. You know, when her parents , her friends, hell, any-fucking-body with an ounce of common sense tells her, “Listen sweetie, we know you think this guy is great, but we’re worried about you. We’re afraid he’s going to hurt you. We’re afraid he’s controlling you. It’s like you’re a different person. Almost like you’ve been brainwashed.”

And you, America, just gave those concerned people your collective middle finger and screamed, “You don’t understand! He loves me!”

America, you’ve gone way past the sulking-in-your-room-listening-to-angry-music stage. You’ve actually run away with him.

You jumped in his slightly beat up but oh-so-sexy muscle car and aren’t looking back.

Because fuck them, right?

This guy is amazing, isn’t he?

I’m one of those people who talked about ‘triggers’ and the effect Trump has on victims of abuse.

I tried to explain what a rape culture is and how he not only perpetuates it, but embraces and promotes it.

And here I am. It took me until 1:00 this afternoon to get out of bed. My head is pounding. My stomach is in knots. And I periodically find myself with tears running down my face.

Yes, I realize that the sun came up this morning.

Yes, I realize I still live in a kinda free country.

But you know what else I realized?

That the man my country just elected to be the 45th President puts me right back in the mindset I was in 15 year ago.

I was cowed. I was scared. I was forever in doubt about my abilities and capabilities. I was forever questioning myself. And since I left my marriage, with one amazing exception (thank you Neil), I’ve purposely avoided any and all long-term relationships.

After my marriage, I never wanted to let anyone else have that level of control or influence over my life. I started to feel stronger. More confident. I worked with therapists who helped me understand that abuse doesn’t have to involve fists, that PTSD happens to people who haven’t been to war, and being abused doesn’t mean I’m weak.

And it all came crashing down on me this morning.

I’m back there where I was when I was married.

I’m afraid.

Afraid for myself.
Afraid for my daughter.
Afraid for my mom.
Afraid for my niece.
Afraid for my cousins.
Afraid for my aunts.
Afraid for my friends.

I’m afraid for my country.

I’m afraid OF my country.

So for now, I’m going to take my dogs for a walk. I’m going to eat something. I’m going to try really hard to take care of myself.

I’m going to see if I can stop crying and shaking, because that makes it really fucking hard to function.

Will I still be alive tomorrow? The day after? Next week? Next month? Next year? Most likely. If I’m not, it won’t be by my own hand. I promise you, I’m not depressed or suicidal. I am, however, in a full-fledged, PTSD flashback – that’s not depression.

But this is going to suck.

And while checking out of life for a day of self-care might let me make it through to the end of the week, it’s not going to stop the flashbacks, the fear, the anxiety.

Because America, you just elected a man who is scary to a whole helluva lot of people.