I watch as Fiona takes Pink Bear to the diaper changing table; she first puts down a soft cloth, she wipes his bottom, telling me he has a poop, she’s as gentle as can be. She attempts to put on a diaper, but needs my help. I help her with the diaper, then go back to the kitchen where I am making dinner. Jack keeps asking about watching Mickey Mouse. I say “No”, he falls down crying. We repeat this scenario several times a day. He always forgets about T.V. after five minutes, or candy, his other true passion that he loves to whine about. Jack and Fiona are only two and a half, I forget that, I feel like they are so much older and wiser. Like somehow they can understand my total devastation and depression; fall out from my New American Administration. An administration I attest. Yesterday I said “Goodbye Cruel World” to my on-line communities, Facebook and Nextdoor. I sit here this morning missing my people, but yesterday I made the decision to get Off-Line and take to the streets. I made the decision to reach out, person to person, find ways to be involved in my community, meet new people in real life, make new friends in my neighborhood. On Friday night I felt like I was having a breakdown. A psychiatric breakdown, “911 what’s your emergency?” I reply, “Trump was elected president”. I needed a stronger drug, a tranquilizer. (that didn’t really happen, but I imagined it happening). Yesterday I took my babies to the park, met up with a friend. Jack and Fiona went off and explored every inch of the playground. I sat and talked with my good friend. They were all the sudden like little kids, not babies. On the drive home, I heard the announcement about Steve Bannon becoming Trumps chief strategist. After Jack and Fiona went down for their nap I researched Bannon. I started to feel physically sick, like I was going to throw up. That’s the moment I deleted my nextdoor and Facebook accounts. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle the furry of conversation and outrage online, I knew I didn’t want to focus my energy on posting and sharing articles on Facebook, I KNEW NOW WAS THE TIME TO HIT THE STREETS! I went to my stationary bike and worked out, sweat, then filled a hot bath, I lay down in the tub, under bubbles of lavender and sobbed, just as I did on Friday listening to Leonard Cohen. I sobbed with pictures in my mind of Jack and Fiona playing at the park, knowing that all the optimism and idea that racism and sexism was on it’s way out in their bright new world was dead. I sobbed with my mouth wide open, spit coming out, thinking of all the non-white people in American feeling scared as shit right now. I sobbed about the car posted on Facebook that had “Fagot” spray painted on it. I sobbed about the KKK not being stopped YET, that they are allowed to have a rally. I sobbed about how easy it is for white people to just “accept Trump, give him a chance”. I deleted my Facebook account and miss all my friends from around the world fighting the fights of justice. I will miss keeping in touch with them and everyone. But I am here. I am hitting the streets, there is too much to lose, too much at stake not to get involved, to stay on Facebook griping and moaning and sharing articles. I want to be a physical part of the movement. Me and my babies. I don’t know how I will do it, how I will get the information I need to be part of it, but they did it in the sixties, I’m sure I can figure it out today.
Category: Difficult times
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I am freaking out right now. I mean freaking out. The American government is being taken over by extreme right wing politicians. Not just Federally, but there are 31 Republican governors and only 18 democratic ones in office. All three branches of government are controlled by republicans, plus they have the potential to have a conservative leaning Judicial system. I feel like one of those crazy people right now. The world is changing, there will be bloodshed. Realizing only half of America voted during this election, that 46% cast throw away ballots or didn’t vote at all. To realize that half the country are totally apathetic. To be a mom raising children in this new world, like a world sixty years ago. I have been going along thinking good will happen, I just need to do good, be helpful and caring, as I am, raise my children the same, vote, speak up as much as possible, and justice would prevail eventually around the world. That there were enough people doing good, we were moving in a positive direction, that we were changing the world. I laughed today when I realized that we, the ones who care, are a minority. Only 25% of the population of America voted Democratic. Take Hilary out of the equation. (She still represents the Democratic party). The same holds true for the Republican party, who BANK on that 46% who don’t give a shit. They know that their guns can take care of us bleeding hearts. Their jails, their crushing of social programs, creating tent towns under the freeways. The Republicans know that there is a majority of Americans who will probably be fine, some with money will rake it in, so to them they don’t mind what’s happening on the streets. Their hearts aren’t affected by it. I am part of a minority that cries when she hears about people suffering, I want to do something or have nothing at all myself. I walk on that line, getting closer than I’ve ever been with the political shift that’s taken place this past week. I can’t just go back to my life and not fight this. Even though I see now that we are a small group. The only hope is for the WHOLE WORLD to UNITE!! One country can’t do it alone, not two or three or five. It HAS TO BE ONE WORLD. I wonder how many of us are out there? How many bleeding-heart liberals exist on Planet Earth today? Time to make art.
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Sick again. Then better. Then sick. Then better. A roller-coaster. Non-stop dishes; complaining re-wires the mind, it makes you more prone to anxiety and depression, I read this on-line. The pile grows, minute after minute, day after day. It causes me anxiety. There’s nothing I can do about it. I feel overwhelmed domesticity-wise. It’s hard for me to handle the constant talking, my name being called from all which ways, 360 degrees around my head, non-stop. The pulling in this direction and that. The mess after mess, Jack and Fiona growing up into actual people, whole people I need to clean up after. There’s no containing the mess, or trying to “keep up with it”, no, it just barrels out, the minute you think you’ve got it all under control, KaBoom! It’s like a hurricane went through the house. I can’t tell how exhausted I am from this whole ordeal. (of being a parent). Or if it’s the beginning of menopause and my hormones are changing drastically, leaving me unable to be the “Good Housewife”. I’ve said this before; it’s back breaking work. It’s intellectual too. Sometimes I’m bombarded with so much talking, mood switches, fighting, whining, asking, grabbing, calling my name, my mind goes blank. I can’t remember names of common zoo animals. Spaghetti brain. Then the constant anxiety over the election, pure fright. Do I need something stronger? Something to numb my body and my senses? A costume? A disguise? Fake it till I make it? Does my stomach hurt from stress or hormones? Or is it real? Are all feelings real? How do we honor ourselves and how we are feeling when we are under a heavy pile of dirty laundry? Too heavy to pick up, too massive to just “get it done”. These are feelings that go through my mind and body. Things I say that get taken out of context, another problem when you’re raw. Is it a shared feeling? A shared sense of being? It’s noon, Monday November 7, 2016. Tomorrow is the election. We will see if some of my discomfort will go away after tomorrow (If Hilary wins). If Trump wins, I just don’t know. It will be a very sad and difficult day for me, for a lot of people.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 