Dear Mom,

I keep sitting down to write to you this week and I keep failing. I keep starting topics that go nowhere, and I keep giving up. At first, I thought maybe I simply ran out of things to say. Then I wondered if having traveled over the weekend made my small timeframe too overwhelming. But I think I’ve figured it out. I think I know why I can’t seem to finish this letter to you.

For the entire time I’ve been writing these letters, even in the very beginning, I always posted on Wednesday morning. This Wednesday morning feels like an inappropriate day to post anything. Especially anything unrelated to the election.

So, I’ve decided to face the dilemma head on and to post a day early instead. Because it’s not like I can write a happy celebratory post to go up on Wednesday with the knowledge that there is a real chance all my fears will come true, and our election will go wrong, and our country and the world will be in danger of a future without democracy and with a whole new reality of hate. 

I didn’t realize until today how much stress I’ve been carrying. How much fear and sadness has been consuming me. I thought it was the normal stresses of life as a mom in a big city with a high cost of living and a low gross annual income. I’ve been blaming Idris’ tantrums and Scotland’s attitude and both of their refusal to listen. I’ve been blaming Jeremy for always being at work and I’ve been blaming myself for adding too much to my plate.

It’s none of our faults. My stress and worry have nothing to do with us. It is all this fucking election. It’s the reality that it’s close between another highly qualified woman and a wannabe dictator. It’s the fact that people believe democracy is the enemy. It’s the truth that people I know and people I love are still undecided. I’m exhausted. I’m afraid. I’m so very worried.  

I’m so very stressed.

Today is election day. I don’t anticipate us knowing the results tonight. I’m not even sure we’ll know by tomorrow or even by the end of the week. What I do know, is that he will fight the results if she wins. And she MUST win. Beyond that. It’s out of my hands at this point. There is no more work to be done. My ballot has been counted. Now I wait. Now I bite my fingernails. Now I devour a pint of ice cream.

I do feel the need to turn my attention to what is in my control. I need to figure out how to protect myself from the severity of this fear I hold. How to stay strong. How to survive this.

I’m not going to say that I plan to breathe and center myself and put good vibes out into the universe. Screw that. I need to be afraid and worried and stressed, and I am probably going to cry and scream into a pillow and, again, eat a pint of ice cream plus probably a giant bag of chips. I am going to most likely fall apart. But at the same time, I am not going to hide it from my kids. I am not going to pretend that everything is OK. That our future is safe, and we will be fine. They deserve better than that. They deserve the truth. And my truth is that I’m scared shitless for our future.

I hope I’m overreacting. I hope she wins, and my fears and stresses were unnecessary. I hope I am wrong. But there is the very sobering fact that even if she wins, we have already lost in so many ways. There are already too many people who have shown their true colors and who have admitted loudly and publicly that they will do whatever they need to do to ensure that their leader gets back into the White House. I can’t pretend those people don’t exist. And I don’t want to. I can’t believe that our differing opinions don’t matter. Hate and prejudice and discrimination are never valid. I don’t care how much we have in common. There are simply some things that are non-negotiable. There are certain views that I believe are reprehensible.

So. My question is, how do I move on from this moment? How do I destress and relax? How do I survive? How do I manage to not turn into the hateful, prejudiced, discriminatory one? Because I’m starting to feel that way. I’m starting to equate all of his supporters with him. All of the people who aren’t sure who to vote for. All of the people who don’t think their vote counts or who don’t like her enough. I don’t want to start looking at all of them as an extension of that candidate. I don’t want to start hating them. But I am. 

I can’t justify these horrific beliefs and actions to my children. I don’t want to. I want to sit them down and tell them, “You know that bad man? That villain who is running for president? All of his supporters are the enemy. They’re all evil. They’re all bad.” I want that. But I know I can’t be that person for them. I can’t teach them to be selective with their compassion. Right?

I’m getting too caught up in the fear again. Going down one of my ‘what if’ rabbit holes. What if she doesn’t win. What if he strips us of our rights even more than he already has. What if fleeing to another country isn’t an option. What if she does win but he fights back with extreme force. What if his followers refuse to believe it. What if we go to war.

Perhaps the only real answer is to find whatever semblance of positivity still exists. There are many reasons to believe it will all be OK. That we don’t have that much to worry about. That the system will protect us.

What if all my fears vanish when she wins. What if he is put in prison for his many crimes and democracy is saved and we all can work together to rebuild. What if my kids do have a future. What if his supporters wake up and realize how evil he is and how wrong they were to follow him. What if everyone finally understands that she only wants what’s best for all of us.

Eight years ago, after I climbed out of the cloud of shock and despair, I wrote a very sad and yet very hopeful letter to you. I wrote:

Yesterday I mourned. I mourned the loss of a great amount of hope that I held just a day earlier. I mourned the missed opportunity to be able to tell my daughter one day that I voted for the first woman President, and she won. I cried for my fellow citizens who are more threatened than me. I cried for Hillary, whom I believe would have been an excellent President, not because she’s a woman, but because she’s a brilliant, educated, experienced, kind, loving, and hopeful fighter. I cried for the little girls out there who were inspired by how close a woman got to the White House, only to see her lose and to see hate win.

It was a sad day for a lot of us.

But, just like when I mourned your loss, I couldn’t let my sadness consume me. Loss is challenging. It’s ugly and frustrating and can cause people to plunge into a darkness that can strip them of their hope and their positivity.

I won’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen.

I know that being hopeful is the only answer. Not getting completely consumed by the fear. Not becoming the hateful one. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to immediately let my worries go. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to focus only on hope and faith in humanity. But I can try. I can attempt to believe that the majority will be the good side. The loving and supportive and compassionate and empathetic side. I can try my best to be confident that decency will prevail. I’m not going to lie and pretend that I have high hopes. But I can at the very least try to be hopeful.

And I’m hoping that eating an entire pint of my favorite ice cream will at the very least bring me some joy in this darkness.

I love you, Mom.

Love, 

Rachel

P.S. Sorry if it’s a bit dark and depressing this week. Seems I couldn’t help myself. This is simply what poured out of me. Also… I hope to bring good news next week.