well that's a gigantic relief
Nov. 7th, 2020 10:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
siscealwhew, as of today there's a possibility of the world not totally ending and like, room to make some sort of positive change instead of just deflecting exploding dodgeballs all day every day. I really feel a shift - actually I started feeling it on Thursday but as of today's news it is BLOSSOMING.
It's weird how this particular period of fascism has such a bookended memory set in my life.
Preface was sitting in a cafe in Porter Square, feeling my stomach start to shake as I caught a glimpse of the news on the TV screen and saw the vote count shifting.
Chapter one was hearing it called at midnight, and feeling something break. Lying curled up with the person who would become my spouse, sobbing into each other's chests. Going for a walk around the neighborhood, a blur of fallen leaves on wet streets, at 4am because we couldn't rest. Trying to plan for what would come next.
(Many more memories under cut)
Chapter two, I spend the week picking up all my friends and loved ones off of bathroom floors and shutting down my own feelings to function until I tear a bunch of muscles in my ribs and it forces me to lie down for a while. I still don't let myself have feelings for at least 5 months. Everyone's priorities change. Future plans go "poof." Climate change starts to feel like a death sentence.
Chapters three through eight are three years of absolutely WTF and questionable decisionmaking, some for the best and some not. Got married, went to grad school, moved to the Bay, doggo, etc. Politics get predictably scary. I mostly numb it out but occasionally it really slaps me in the face. The racism also becomes more obvious to me.
Chapter nine: Then in January 2020, I'm in Chicago at school, a friend texting to tell me there was some sort of bad virus starting to spread and to be sure to wash my hands. I shrugged it off, and then when I got home in mid-February we both happened to get Norovirus and spent nearly two weeks isolating and bleaching everything in the house. Once we were able to leave the house again, there was exactly enough time to stock up on necessities before shelter-in-place hit. More transphobic and otherwise oppressive nonsense oozes out of Washington.
Chapter ten covers March - September 2020. I slowly become indistinguishable from my mattress. Announcement after announcement of things being cancelled and moving online. No emotions, just exhaustion and frequent fear that every cough or fever meant that I had given my bubble COVID. Spouse and I stay out of each others' way. The dog goes from being a saving grace to driving us crazy as being cooped up makes her more neurotic. The few people we have face time with out in the yard achieve a special level of intimacy - we're all pretty catatonic but still want to sit together. Spouse and I support the police brutality protests any way we can, which in my case is mostly guiding my congregation to understand them better, signal boosting, and donations. I'm glad everyone is angry. I'm angry. It doesn't feel like anything is going to change but we have to try, somehow. Trump makes a million wrong decisions in handling the pandemic. We are never getting out of here.
Chapter eleven, we are going broke from a combination of Bay area rent and Sable's work drying up. I hear them murmuring "I want to go home" a few times a day for a couple of weeks. We're sitting out in our little garden and I ask them, "hey, do you want to go home? like, move to Baltimore? I know you miss your family and I wouldn't mind being back on the east coast." We agree to think about it for a couple of weeks, but I think from that moment on we're committed to it. We need to get out somehow. We find a spacious place in Baltimore and drive out there. It's weird but a welcome break from the deafening buzz of emptiness which has been growing for the past year. The election is coming up. I'm not so certain it'll work out okay - our country favors re-election and the middle of the country is Trump signs as far as the eye can see. Removing a dictator is not easy. I don't know what's going to happen, and on the days when "Re-election" seems more likely, the future seems like it's just gone. There is no life there.
Chapter twelve, election week. It's a rollercoaster. Election day doesn't look so great, but things feel a little more promising as the mail-in votes start getting counted. I don't really sleep, and I do something like praying almost hourly. The stress is intense everywhere, and I feel it all around me. The potential worst outcome is too real. At work, we hold vigil after vigil.
Final page, I'm sitting in the kitchen having coffee, showing a meme to Spouse. A friend texts me that the election has been called and Trump is out, and my spouse sees it and exclaims. They start talking about getting twee wallpaper someday when we own a home, and then stop midsentence and squeeze my hand. "That's the first time I have thought about the future and been able to breathe at all in four years." I smile and squeeze their hand back. There's finally space to start fixing things. We hang our trans flag on the porch while people drive by howling with joy. Just a chance is all I need to keep going.
It's weird how this particular period of fascism has such a bookended memory set in my life.
Preface was sitting in a cafe in Porter Square, feeling my stomach start to shake as I caught a glimpse of the news on the TV screen and saw the vote count shifting.
Chapter one was hearing it called at midnight, and feeling something break. Lying curled up with the person who would become my spouse, sobbing into each other's chests. Going for a walk around the neighborhood, a blur of fallen leaves on wet streets, at 4am because we couldn't rest. Trying to plan for what would come next.
(Many more memories under cut)
Chapter two, I spend the week picking up all my friends and loved ones off of bathroom floors and shutting down my own feelings to function until I tear a bunch of muscles in my ribs and it forces me to lie down for a while. I still don't let myself have feelings for at least 5 months. Everyone's priorities change. Future plans go "poof." Climate change starts to feel like a death sentence.
Chapters three through eight are three years of absolutely WTF and questionable decisionmaking, some for the best and some not. Got married, went to grad school, moved to the Bay, doggo, etc. Politics get predictably scary. I mostly numb it out but occasionally it really slaps me in the face. The racism also becomes more obvious to me.
Chapter nine: Then in January 2020, I'm in Chicago at school, a friend texting to tell me there was some sort of bad virus starting to spread and to be sure to wash my hands. I shrugged it off, and then when I got home in mid-February we both happened to get Norovirus and spent nearly two weeks isolating and bleaching everything in the house. Once we were able to leave the house again, there was exactly enough time to stock up on necessities before shelter-in-place hit. More transphobic and otherwise oppressive nonsense oozes out of Washington.
Chapter ten covers March - September 2020. I slowly become indistinguishable from my mattress. Announcement after announcement of things being cancelled and moving online. No emotions, just exhaustion and frequent fear that every cough or fever meant that I had given my bubble COVID. Spouse and I stay out of each others' way. The dog goes from being a saving grace to driving us crazy as being cooped up makes her more neurotic. The few people we have face time with out in the yard achieve a special level of intimacy - we're all pretty catatonic but still want to sit together. Spouse and I support the police brutality protests any way we can, which in my case is mostly guiding my congregation to understand them better, signal boosting, and donations. I'm glad everyone is angry. I'm angry. It doesn't feel like anything is going to change but we have to try, somehow. Trump makes a million wrong decisions in handling the pandemic. We are never getting out of here.
Chapter eleven, we are going broke from a combination of Bay area rent and Sable's work drying up. I hear them murmuring "I want to go home" a few times a day for a couple of weeks. We're sitting out in our little garden and I ask them, "hey, do you want to go home? like, move to Baltimore? I know you miss your family and I wouldn't mind being back on the east coast." We agree to think about it for a couple of weeks, but I think from that moment on we're committed to it. We need to get out somehow. We find a spacious place in Baltimore and drive out there. It's weird but a welcome break from the deafening buzz of emptiness which has been growing for the past year. The election is coming up. I'm not so certain it'll work out okay - our country favors re-election and the middle of the country is Trump signs as far as the eye can see. Removing a dictator is not easy. I don't know what's going to happen, and on the days when "Re-election" seems more likely, the future seems like it's just gone. There is no life there.
Chapter twelve, election week. It's a rollercoaster. Election day doesn't look so great, but things feel a little more promising as the mail-in votes start getting counted. I don't really sleep, and I do something like praying almost hourly. The stress is intense everywhere, and I feel it all around me. The potential worst outcome is too real. At work, we hold vigil after vigil.
Final page, I'm sitting in the kitchen having coffee, showing a meme to Spouse. A friend texts me that the election has been called and Trump is out, and my spouse sees it and exclaims. They start talking about getting twee wallpaper someday when we own a home, and then stop midsentence and squeeze my hand. "That's the first time I have thought about the future and been able to breathe at all in four years." I smile and squeeze their hand back. There's finally space to start fixing things. We hang our trans flag on the porch while people drive by howling with joy. Just a chance is all I need to keep going.
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Date: 8 Nov 2020 04:15 pm (UTC)< cut >
Before it
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Date: 8 Nov 2020 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 27 Nov 2020 06:36 am (UTC)