So, let's talk about it.
Moving forward and finding bright spots.
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What I cover here today: The election and its aftermath, how I’m moving forward, my daily reading routine, and some life updates (with photos) of what’s been going with me lately.
It’s been a tough week. What else is there to say as I start this letter but that? I wasn’t particularly surprised by the election results, but I was left feeling bereft on Wednesday morning. Every hour since, I have found myself thinking some version of: Is this really who we are as a country? Then, quickly: Yes, this is who we are. It’s disappointing and shameful. Seventy million people in this country knew exactly who Trump is and opted for more of it. To be honest, though, I can’t say the results shocked me. I was prepared for it as much as I wasn’t.
What did surprise me was the feeling of deep loneliness I experienced in the aftermath. I am lucky enough to have a partner who shares my views and my disappointment with the election results (frankly, I can’t imagine being in a partnership where this isn’t the case). I am surrounded by friends who fight for the right things all the time. And yet, there is a real sense of isolation that comes with realizing that in every room I walk in now, there are people who looked at the last eight years and said: “Yes, more of this,” or didn’t care enough to vote. Or who look at the deep fear and sadness some people are experiencing now as an overreaction. I remember every single conversation with family or friends who have said some version of, “I don’t like his personality, but…” for the past eight years. But, but, but, but. After Charlottesville or January 6 or 34 felony convictions, after everything. What disturbs me is that I think many of these people would say we share the same moral compass, that they love others, that they love me. That they care about right and wrong, that they care about the truth, that they care about it more than tax cuts (don’t get me started on the myth of the better economy under Trump). But I don’t feel that way at all, not if they vote for (or refuse to vote against) a person as morally bankrupt and dangerous and dishonest as Donald Trump. I am thankful to be mostly surrounded by loved ones who do not fall into this group, but I know that many of the people who voted for Trump (or didn’t vote) feel exactly that way, like supporting him, or refusing to stand up to him, doesn’t implicate their own morals. That disconnect is painful. It is lonely. It is exhausting.
The sentiment of “I don’t know how to convince you to care about people” has been ringing in my ears since Tuesday, but also: I don’t know how to convince you that this isn’t what caring about people looks like if you think it is. I don’t know how to convince you that political choices are moral choices, too.
I shared a less eloquent version of this on Instagram stories on Tuesday morning, through tears and snot, and the response astounded me. So many of us were in exactly this feeling together, wading through it, exhausted and angry and sad. I had more messages in my inbox than I have ever, ever had. There are so, so many of us who are outraged by this, and so many of us who will fight for something better. I will do that. For the past year, I have been donating a small percentage of Substack earnings to progressive causes that are important to me. I am already thinking about how I can keep doing that, and in bigger ways. For the first time in my life, I am thinking about the mid-terms years in advance. I am learning more about mutual aid.
When Donald Trump won last time, I was 22. The election snuck up on me and Trump’s victory shocked me. I am not shocked now, nor am I as angry and confused as I was then. I am sadder, and I am certainly more exhausted. But I am also smarter, and I am more sure of who I am and want I want for this world. My eyes are set on exactly that. There is no other option but to keep moving toward that. I will not be distracted.
It wasn’t my intention to sit down this morning and write an election post-mortem. I know I am not saying anything that hasn’t been said already by smarter, more qualified people. But, here we are. It’s what is on my mind as I move forward, my disappointment in this country not behind me but at my side. It sits there with my hope and my joy and my belief that, as tired as we are, there are so many of us in all of it together.
Before the election, I had been drafting this post as I usually would — light, easy updates, followed by a photo diary of the past couple weeks. Essentially, a glimpse into my brain lately. I’ve decided to go ahead with that. Small joys and moments and slowness has been on my mind a lot for most of the last six months, and there is part of me that wants to abandon that now. There are so many big things at stake. There is a lot of fear and, of course, anger, too. But we all need to be gentle with ourselves, too. After a rough Wednesday, I slept for 10 hours straight and woke up the next morning with an intense sense of determination. I knew I would keep moving toward something better, and I knew I would not let this steal my joy. Small moments are my joy. I intend to keep celebrating them.
I also woke up that morning wanting to read, an idea which had felt impossible the day before, though I tried. I read most mornings and evenings, usually in a secondhand floral chaise lounge that sits in (what will one day be) our library. If you follow me, you know the one. It is my greatest second-hand purchase of all time, $75 and complete with a ruffled skirt and generally great dimensions for reading. I have a small drink table next to it where I usually put some books and my coffee or tea. In a few weeks, the fireplace next to it will be outfitted with a wood burning stove. If I have manifested anything in my life, it is maybe these exact moments in every day, reading and sipping a hot drink, watching the dim morning light spill through our ancient, drafty windows.
Each morning before the work day begins, as I sit in my chair with my book, Jake goes outside to work on the house (we’re currently renovating an outbuilding into my future office at the moment — more updates and photos later in this post!). In our dog Winnie’s ideal world, she would be with Jake at all times. If he got a baby carrier and could strap all 35 pounds of her to his chest at all times, she’d probably be thrilled. When Jake travels for work, she often looks at me with deep sadness welling in her eyes. I know she is saying, “You’re, like, fine, but I really, really miss him.” And I get it. He’s great. We’d both be lost without him.
But now that colder weather has arrived, Winnie sticks with me in the mornings. Now, every morning when I sit in that chair, she walks over and hops up too, then plops herself right in between my legs, waiting for me to put the blanket on top of both of us. Within a minute, she is asleep with her head on my chest or stomach. I read my book, pet her impossibly soft head, and watch the sun slowly rise over the hill behind our house. Every day, I am completely sure that I am sitting in a perfect moment. I take many, many things for granted, but never, ever this.
Aside from the aforementioned craziness, this is what life has felt like for me lately. I am writing a lot (though, nothing good… first shitty draft of Book 3 is, indeed, very shitty). I am reading more than ever. I’m cooking and spending less time on my phone. I’m puzzling. I’m spending time with friends. I’m dreaming about ideas for the house without feeling like I’m drowning in projects (AKA: I’m being patient, for once). I’m still feeling a little lost about a lot of things, but I’m slowly learning to be ok with that, too. I feel more resilient than I have in a really long time, but in a soft kind of way, if that makes sense? I still dfeel everything as deeply as ever, but I fight harder for myself. I fight harder to love myself, to like myself, to create a life I want and boundaries that take care of myself. I’ll continue to celebrate that win.
Here’s some more of what I’ve been up to lately for the past two weeks!
Life lately, in photos.
Around Halloween, we rented “And Then There Was Shawn” AKA my favorite episode of Boy Meets World ever for $2.99 on Amazon Prime, which was worth every penny. I still laugh so hard every time I see it. I can’t recommend re-watching your favorite childhood shows enough. It sparks a lot of joy.
The Thursday after the election, I drank my morning coffee while watching this episode of Pod Save America. I played it on our TV and it provided some much needed perspective. I did laugh hysterically at the dog in this shot, though, because same.
I read Bel Canto by Ann Patchett in October for our Bad on Paper book club and while I can’t say it was a favorite of mine (listen to the episode to hear all my thoughts!), I did love seeing the bright blue cover around the house.
Listen, I miss the soup dumplings from Dim Sum Garden in Philly every day of my life. If those dumplings are 10/10, these “Asian inspired” ones from Walmart are, like, a 2.5. But they scratched a certain itch. I ate them as a snack with chili crisp on top and it was a perfect chilly day treat.