What I've learned about grief and the 2016 Election

Image: Creative Commons – picture by Abhi Ryan

Three days post-election, and I find myself making the familiar rounds through stages of grief.

1. Denial (mixed with panic).  NO NO NO NO NO, THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!
2. Shock.  I can’t believe it.  This was not supposed to happen.  Is this real life?
3. Bargaining.  I should have done something.  I should have known this was possible.  Please turn back time.  Give us a second chance.
4. Anger.  How could you?!!
5. Acceptance.  This is just what needed to happen.  

This is how it went for me, and the cycle will continue, though not in any discernible order, for the next four years.  Just like it did, and does, with George (how I wish that to be a four year sentence).  Though the circumstances and consequences are entirely different, the human experience is the same:  This crazy awful thing happened that I never could have imagined, my world is torn apart, and I’m scared to death of what happens next.  ​

I know people are scared.  People are angry.  They have been fighting for decades for their voices to be heard, for an invitation to belong, for decency, for their planet, and for their fellow citizens to celebrate, not repress, the diversity that makes us beautifully human.  The new president elect has given us too many examples of intolerance, white male dominance, and disregard for anything or anyone that does not directly contribute to his power game.  It’s as if he walked into my living room Tuesday night to inform me, with a sneer, that all of the messages I received growing up in white middle-class America were true:  My race means I’m not good enough, my gender means I’m not strong enough, my voice will never be loud enough, and I should crawl back into the hole I lived in for the first 30 years of my life.  

I get it.  This is not what we wanted.  It’s more than we thought we could endure.  (Which is why we were so blindsided by our defiant denial.)  But the last couple of years have taught me some universal things about surviving grief, so I’m going to skip the story that the sky is falling and start participating in the outcome.  Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Resistance is futile, and exhausting.  It doesn’t matter that we didn’t want this, or choose this, or deserve this.  The thing happened.  What matters is how we respond.  
2. You have to break in order to grow.  The things that break us the most have the power to transform and awaken us towards our destiny.  It’s damn hard work, but it’s worth it.
3. Go inside, look for answers, and be honest about what you see.  Uncover your darkness.  Bring it into the light.  Do your own work to be clear and integrous.  This is where change begins.  
4. It’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to be afraid.  Let it out, but don’t let it keep you hostage.  
5. Practice gratitude.  

In this situation we can become victims, or we can become better human beings.  We can stay sad and angry, or we can transform our emotions into positive change.  We can point fingers and keep our labels and call the other side deplorable, or we can try to understand what brings them to their conclusions, clean up our own judgments and beliefs that are less than ideal, and collectively lead the next generation out of suffering and into the light.  Because let's be clear -- the people who voted for Trump are suffering.  All had their reasons, but none were grounded in love and hope for humanity.  The fear and hate they harbor are eating them alive.

This fight will not be won with fists or force or reason.  These only widen the divide, increase the contempt.  We must make efforts to understand with a willingness and curiosity to see others at a purely human level, to find commonality, to connect.  Beliefs are learned, and they can be unlearned, but first there must be trust.  Let's extend our humanity.  Share our stories.  Build a bridge for them to cross.  Heal ourselves, so that we can heal others.  Let's go high.