The Zoopness: The waiting is the hardest part
Anyone who has had the misfortune of watching a Notre Dame football game with me can tell you that I don’t handle suspense very well. Any score within two touchdowns going into the final minutes and I have to physically leave the premises. I’ll pace in my parents’ driveway until I hear cheering or booing in their living room and can come back in and find out the final score. And despite my many superstitions, it’s actually not that I’m afraid that my watching will tilt the outcome of the game (though I can see why you might have thought that - since it’s a quite logical assumption) - it’s that I physically cannot endure the not knowing. It feels like I’m going to spontaneously combust.
Now take that and multiply it by about 1,000 and that’s the state I’m in headed into tomorrow.
And that’s even factoring in the ungodly amounts of self-care I’ve been doing. I haven’t read or watched any news in over a month. I haven’t looked at a single poll. I’m up to two lavender-scented bubble baths a day, and doing everything I can to “keep the patient comfortable” as Anne Lamott says.
But I can tell that it’s still not enough. I’m forgetful, and disorganized, and flaky- characteristics that only show up for me under extreme stress. I catch my hands shaking some times. I can literally feel my hair turning gray. And worst of all - I have no appetite. What better time is there to turn to donuts for comfort than now, and everything just tastes like sawdust.
This administration and this pandemic seem to keep stealing the activities I love - reading (too distracted to concentrate), talking politics (too demoralizing), football (too co-opted), and now donuts?! Have you no decency sir!
There’s basically one good outcome tomorrow, and about ten bad ones (by my humble assessment) — and even though I think the good one is the most likely, it’s by a very small margin. 51/49 our democracy lives to fight another day?
(I’m deep into a Sex and the City rewatch right now and keep imagining Carrie writing her column in 2020 — “I couldn’t help but wonder, once a democracy backslides into autocracy, is the damage reversible?”)
Anyway- I mainly just wanted to pass along this guide from Axios that I thought was helpful on how to have a safe, sane election night and do our part to not contribute to the darkness and drama. (Tl;dr: don’t expect a clear, quick winner; don’t share information on social media that isn’t from a source you know and trust; brace yourself for a Red Mirage; expect Trump to contest the results no matter what; and get ready for a long 78 days until inauguration day).
I’m not fully giving up hope that Florida gets called for Biden tomorrow night and there’s enough of a popular vote lead that Trump won’t have grounds to contest anything.
But after 2016, hope feels unreasonably risky. Every time I’ve been around other people recently, we end up retelling our stories from election night that year -and what we did the day after. It’s like we’re trying to convince ourselves that we made it through this once already and can do it again, even though we know the cumulative effect is going to make it feel so much worse this time.
We’re all trying to brace ourselves for what’s ahead, not knowing what that will be.
So in the moments we can find tomorrow to unclench our jaws and push down our shoulders, let’s do that. Let’s breathe, and check on each other, and drink water (and something much stronger as the night goes on).
Anne Lamott also says that when everything is going wrong and you don’t know which way is up, the best thing to do is follow the instructions. And basically all of the experts whose instructions I’d be willing to follow say that faith sees best in the dark, and we have more in common than we think. That hope is a choice, and courage is a muscle. And that when all else fails, one foot in front of the other gets us where we need to go pretty much every time, as long as we’re walking in love.
Sending so much love to all of you tonight, and hoping everyone is able to practice truly radical self-care (whatever that means for you) in the days and weeks to come. See you on the other side.
xoxo,
Alison
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The Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.