Grief, Denial, Acceptance, Resistance
Our collective grief and disappointment in our nation, and my plea for compassion to those of us still in denial due to past trauma and loss.
Hello, everyone!
How are you doing? Yeah, me, too.
Another day dawns…and this is the third rewriting of this essay. ~sigh~ It’s a long one because…it has to be. It’s been 14 days since our election, and I am…okay for a few seconds, then not okay for several seconds. I’m bouncing back and forth from exhaustion, to anger, to stoked to fight, to panic, to shock…yeah, all the emotions. All of them. I swear I feel all of them simultaneously, just as I did in December 2016.
Our world is moving at a breakneck speed and we’re all trying to process what has happened, what IS happening and what may (or definitely will) happen under TOF’s rule. (I have formerly changed my reference to him as The Orange Fascist = TOF.)
And, I’ve been writing and rewriting this essay because…well…trauma. I am re-living the trauma of the loss of my beloved husband, which coincided with all the cruelty of TOF’s previous term in Office. I am being thrown back to a time I wish to not revisit.
On November 8, 2024, while trying to process the incredulity of the election results, I made the mistake of trying to explain my thoughts/emotions to my 92-yr old father during my monthly call to him, (he’s a Harris supporter, so he's good), but my dad immediately misunderstood me. He thought I was going down a conspiracy theory hole, which he KNOWS I do NOT do, have never done. But, he cut me off when I was trying to explain & changed the subject.
[Side note: My dad has never liked to talk about substantive issues: he talks about the weather and his garden and his ailments, and has never called me. He was completely useless during my husband’s health crisis and after my husband’s passing, (more about that later),. He is very uncomfortable talking about anything personal or upsetting, which is why it has been so bizarre to me that he has been a moderator for grief support groups every year since my mom died in 2009. Apparently, it’s easy for him to do that but not support his own daughter after the loss of her husband?
But, he has described it as more of a detached moderator role. He shows up for the first one or two meetings (of the eight-week grief support program which only occurs once or twice a year), gives them guidance, then leaves it to them. He finally “retired” from that role a few years ago. He doesn’t stay for the emotional bit which makes perfect sense, and is in line with how he’s been all my life.]
This last week I’ve been very much in denial because this election has activated a very dark place in my life which I am trying my damnedest NOT to revisit, hence the numerous rewrites. You see, after PET scan results came in on November 17, 2016, my husband was given his fatal diagnosis: “untreatable” cancer with a fluke of a +1 gene mutation which made it super aggressive.
He passed away 3-1/2 weeks later, in December 2016, right before all Hell broke loose in our country. And, this last week, marks eight years since that diagnosis. (Okay, I’m taking a breath and writing this holding back tears while I feel panic rising. Maybe I can get this essay done this time?)
I lost my very best friend and my greatest supporter when I lost my husband. When I needed him the most, he wasn’t here physically to calm me and comfort me. I almost didn’t make it—physically, emotionally, mentally, literally—through those four years of cruelty. I look back and am astounded we survived, and aren’t homeless. We almost didn’t make it.
Then, I read Seth Abramson’s essay, Proof of Consequences, Vol. 2: The 2024 U.S. Presidential Election Was Not Stolen: America is no longer a democracy—and it’s about to experience a fascist nightmare that will rock the world. But until Democrats abandon the false hope of election denialism, they can’t face any of it.
I highly recommend reading all of Seth’s work, he is what grounded me during those four years. Even though what he covered was TOF’s truly awful administration, for some reason, it helped me! Knowledge is power, and I am a researcher at heart. The more I knew, the more I understood what was happening in the world, the more it gave me something to grasp onto, gave my mind something else to think about but, also something to ground me in life. If I knew the facts, I was in control of my thoughts, because I was in control of the knowledge I chose to focus on. I needed that sense of control when everything about my husband’s health crisis and his death was so OUT of my control. Does that make sense?
Seth was a voice of facts, expert perspective (read his bio). He put the pieces of the puzzle together for me; what I was reading, what I was feeling and knowing intuitively (I had a lot of “I KNEW IT!” exclamations during that time and since), which helped me cope tremendously while in mourning.
Here is an excerpt from the above referenced essay from Seth Abramson:
“Tenth—and again I say this with great respect for my fellow Democratic voters—please understand that we’re all grieving. We must be able to name our grief as grief before we can address it. I’m grieving. You’re grieving. And what’s the famous first step of the grieving process? Denial.
Many of us are in it. And that’s said empathetically—not judgmentally. As I said at the top of this essay, I’m experiencing all the same feelings that everyone reading this is.
But there’s good news in this, too: even the grieving can heal while remaining open to new data. You can let go of your grief-stricken denial about what has just happened while still saying to yourself and others, “If new hard evidence comes out that’s not just my gut feeling, I promise I’ll look at it.” That’s where I am at right now—” ~Seth Abramson
I cannot thank Seth enough for articulating where I was at, at the time I read this, and I have to admit, where I am lingering, for protection.
I simply cannot fathom how *anyone* could vote for this vile, misogynistic, bigoted, life-long criminal and predator. How the fuck did this happen?! And, yes, I know all about the psychology of it; Dr. Bandy Lee explained it, and I understand that, but part of me just doesn't want to accept the results because I cannot fathom the number of people that fell for this guy’s lies and con and hate!! I have always believed in the goodness of people, it’s just so hard to fathom the hate and cruelty, even when you know the psychological makeup/dysfunction of the abuser and the abused.
And, yes, I have felt like we've been in an abusive relationship with this guy for ten years and I just want it to end! Millions of us do! I don't want to go there again. I can’t…for my sanity’s sake.
I almost didn't make it last time. My mental & physical health were NOT good, son & I were scrounging for money for food, taking back unopened items we knew we wouldn’t eat to have money for rice and a few veggies, skipping meals because we couldn't afford three full meals (and snacks? Wth are snacks?) I was so worried about my son's physical & mental health as well. I couldn't lose him, too, especially when he became so thin he started looking like my husband did the last week of his life as cancer shut down his body. **Breathe and remind myself, “But we DID make it.”**
It was a bad time for my son and I with no support from families, (I didn’t & don’t have any friends), so this disgusting excuse for a human being who lacks the VERY essence of what makes a human being…HUMAN (empathy), winning a re-election is re-traumatizing us, especially me, although I can see it affecting my son, too, as his anxiety/OCD tics have become more frequent.
Mentally, I’m in a better place. The brain fog that comes with grief has gone. I can focus and multi-task like I normally could nine years ago, but it’s been rough! I have to put up a wall for my sanity’s sake. When I feel like crying now, I immediately stop, distract myself, put that wall up…for my protection. I’m afraid if I start crying, I’ll panic. I don’t want to go back to that dark, dark hole, almost losing my grip on reality.
Tapping saved me several times. I’d tap and whisper-yell my anger and panic as my son slept, to get it all out, begging the Universe, my late husband, my guides, to help me get through this, and lashing out at everyone I could think of who had let this happen: those who voted for that asshole, my husband for leaving me, the Universe for killing him, the skeevy lawyer for trying to guilt me into paying on my husband’s business debt (not a lot but I had nothing & it wasn’t my responsibility to do so! + it had already been discharged/forgiven/zeroed out!). I lashed out at the bank for giving that info to that skeevy lawyer’s firm, and more!
Now, I have to leave it up to the legal experts, Democrats in office, those in power to do their jobs. I gave it my all trying to get Vice President Kamala Harris elected. I know millions of us did. I need to focus on myself right now, that’s where I have to put my energy.
I have 2 months to create work, and a steady income, and pray that it will last long enough for me to repair my house and get us moved back up north. Get us the hell out of Florida. Then, I may be able to find local work should this newsletter and/or my intuitive work not be enough. I just want a fresh start in as supportive a state and town as I can find. I deserve that and my son deserves that.
I remember, about a year after his father died, my son finally found work (thanks to my intuition sensing/knowing there was a job fair somewhere in town that day). Finally,—reminder: I had to wait FIVE YEARS before I was eligible to receive partial Survivor’s Benefits—we were able to afford more food so, we could eat three full meals a day.
Recently, my son was promoted to a better position with a big raise (he applied for this position and had a couple of key people tell those in charge to interview him, otherwise his resume would have been overlooked yet again by the computer due to flawed algorithms), so that’s a plus and further calms my anxieties.
But, they are still present, and ramping up. So, right now, I need to focus on creating a safe haven for us (decluttering and cleaning need to be done—an orderly space alleviates anxieties— along with long overdue repairs), & that means I have to put my energy into earning an income so I don't depend on my son anymore.
With this incoming cast of criminals wanting to cut Social Security, my partial Survivor's Benefits will be gone, and I will be penniless, and possibly homeless. I can't let that happen to me. (Many widows will be homeless should this happen. I’ll write more on the 50+% of widows, 65 years and older who already live in extreme poverty in another essay).
Note: I’m already seeing people chastising those of us who need more time to regroup before fighting and I want to say, “Stop it!” I know, many who read this will be critical, screaming—“We don’t have TIME!”—however, this sentiment does NOT help those of us whose trauma and grief have been activated by this election. It pushes us away faster and deeper than you know. We retreat further than we would have if you had just given us a little space and time to put our armor on. Please, be kind.
Remember, there are all sorts of people, which means, depending upon our life experiences, past traumas, support systems (or lack thereof), financial resources (or lack thereof), personality traits and characteristics, education, etc., some of us need more time to process what has happened, to grieve. Some of us need more time to prepare for what may or will happen. Some of us need to work on keeping our sanity, not be thrown into a panic where we’ll jeopardize our health and wellbeing and our families’, and we’ll be useless to the cause.
Not all of us have family, friends, co-workers, networks, groups we belong to who can support us emotionally. I, literally, have NONE of that. My monthly phone call to me dad lasts 5-10 minutes, no support in any way for me at all. I call him because he’s my dad, for better or worse, and to actually speak to another human being.
You see, I am an extrovert. I get my energy from interacting with people, and I have been isolated for almost a decade without the one person I could count on, who understood me, who comforted me. My safe place was in his arms; the worries of the day, the world would melt away as he hugged me and I could, for a precious few moments, be at peace. My safe place no longer exists…it’s gone. And, without clients, verbal interactions, an exchange of energies, my energy is low or depleted most of the time!
Thankfully, my son has friends and co-workers he speaks to on a daily basis. I curb what I talk about so as not to feed his anxieties, so I have a lot bottled up! My husband could take all my venting of the injustices at work, in our community, in our country, our world. He listened to me. I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have someone calling me just to find out how I’m doing, how my day is going like he did every day. That’s not a good feeling. To realize you don’t matter enough for *anyone* to call to find out if you survived hurricanes, flooding, unemployment. That’s what most widows experience. Dang, I even experienced this when my husband was alive (except for his calls)! He was the only adult who cared about me and would listen, and offer comfort, and reassurance, and energy to survive, to persist yet another day.
And, believe me, when I tell you I have *tried* many, many, many times to create a community over the last 20 years, whether it was for job seekers, local businesswomen, friends, writers, widows…all to no avail. I’d end up helping the one or two people who showed up, then disappeared once their issue was resolved. Plus, everyone seemed to already have their groups and never wanted to add anyone new to it. 🤷🏻♀️
My point is: You can’t get water from an empty well. Give some people a little time. We need it for our mental health, our physical health. We’ll join the fight as much as we can, step by step, but know, everyone who grieves, grieves differently, and at their own pace. Don’t make people WRONG because they’re not where you are in grieving the election results. Don’t make people WRONG for not immediately fighting, or for limiting their social media time, or news-watching. We’ll join the fight if we’re given a little time to keep ourselves sane, to regroup. We KNOW time is of the essence. Believe me, we KNOW it. That kind of pressure is already, for some of us, too much to bear at this very moment.
Remember what they tell you when you’re on an airplane, or in a fire? Put the oxygen mask on yourself first, then you can help your child or loved one. Otherwise, both of you will be lost. Let us help ourselves and our families heal a little, before we help our community, our nation. And, honestly? By allowing us to help ourselves first, we will, in fact, BE helping our families, our community, and our nation.Some of us are hanging on by a thread. Don’t be the ones chiding us and throwing rocks at us as we desperately cling to the thread for fear of falling back into our own holes of trauma and despair. Please don’t make our journey harder than it already is.
Instead, be the light above us, encouraging us to climb and join the ranks once we’ve reached the top, and rested a little, after fighting our own battles. We’ll bring with us our renewed strength and resilience. After all, we’ve come this far. We know how to be determined and persistent. We just need a little more time than you do.
Ok, right now, I’m staving off my crying and my growing panic. That’s why it’s taken me so long to write and rewrite this essay. I don’t want to lose it; I don’t want to give in to the panic. Please know, I don’t say this lightly.
A little panic came through in the wee hours yesterday morning, and I tapped like crazy on it, enough to release some of it and shove the rest aside, blocking it from taking over. That’s where I am at right now: grieving, and in denial for my protection, for sanity’s sake. And, I know I’m not alone.
Thank you for listening. 💜 🙏 ☮️
~ Lisa
Thank you for visiting, reading, and subscribing! Whether you’re a free subscriber or a paid subscriber, you matter to me. And, you’re telling me, and all widows, that we do matter, that our lives and our voices do matter. Thank you for that. 💜 🙏 ☮️