By Lisa Nellis
Many of my family and friends know that I’ve struggled with mild depression, mixed with a little anxiety, most of my life. Between a prescription medication and getting married to the greatest guy I know, I’ve managed to tame it a great deal over the past few years.
Until November 9.
My husband woke me up around 4 AM and said. “I can’t believe he won.”
I thought he was teasing. I’m sorry to admit I yelled at him.
I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night. I called in sick to work, feeling literally nauseous. This has got to be some sort of a joke, right? How could this be real? Are people SERIOUSLY that easily fooled? Do they not care that this man is a horrible, racist, misogynistic sociopath? Are we all gonna die?
The anxiety hasn’t gone away since then. In fact, it’s gotten worse. This election still feels like a huge farce. And there’s a sense of helplessness and hopelessness that grows and grows with every passing day.
I’ve considered attending the Women’s March. I block all the nasty trolls on Twitter (and there are so, SO many.) I can’t bring myself to tear the Bernie sticker from my truck. I’ve donated to OurRevolution. I take a little comfort in seeing Roy Cooper being sworn in as Governor of my state, but it’s not enough.
Every day brings another “WTF” moment, another “I can’t believe he said that on Twitter.”
We can’t let this happen, and I don’t know what to do to stop it.
I know I’m not alone.