Part of trauma is being retraumatized every time you realize again what happened and what you now have to live with. It hurts again, and forces you to confront again the fact that millions of people (some of whom claim to love you) not only said they didn’t agree with your vision for your own life but didn’t think you could have the right to dream for yourself.
That’s painful. And it’s ok to admit that it’s painful.
It’s been 359 days and I still can’t believe he’s the actual president. It’s been 359 days and I still can’t believe that so many people rejected the idea of a woman president. (And I know they say they’re fine with a woman, “just not that woman,” but there are an awful lot of us who didn’t love her positions but still voted for her because she was the only realistic candidate. That line betrays either deep misogyny or lack of understanding of cause and effect.)
Every time I think about how those millions of people hate my female body so much that they chose an abusive criminal instead, it hurts again. I’ve mostly gotten desensitized to seeing him and having to hear his voice, but occasionally there’s still a flash of panic, like when you come around the corner at the grocery store and your middle school bully walks past you.
I just want to say that it’s not only typical to still be emotional about it, it’s normal. We are all being held hostage. We can’t afford not to care. And even if we don’t want to care, that hurt and shock is in our bodies.
Today, give yourself a break from thinking you should be over it, should have known, should “move on.” Today, let yourself admit that it’s cost you and continues to cost you, and there’s no way he or his family and cronies or the Republicans in Congress or any of the appointed heads of agencies and judges or any of our former/still friends can make it up to us. There are no possible amends. There can be no amends.
It’s ok to cry.