Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
Denial.
There’s not a chance he’ll win. Even the staunchest Republicans are beginning to recognize his slippery, sleazy lies. Project 2025 is 900+ pages, can’t blame folks for not waiting to read it. I tried, and it made me sick to my stomach. Ugh! And, what the hell?! He’s a felon, isn’t he?
No, there’s no way he’ll win. The psychics and astrologers said that this is the time of rising of the Divine Feminine, and we all know he ain’t no feminine. Ha! No way he’ll win, not on our watch, right?
Anger.
What the fuck?! This is a nightmare; something is wrong. I’m going back to bed. Wake me when it’s over, okay?
It’s bad enough all his billionaire buddies voted for him, but honestly, people of color? Latin-Americans? And women? Come on, sisters, don’t do this to us. We’ve worked too hard for too long; how could you fall for his crap? Ugh. Disappointed, betrayed, and yes, very, very angry! And it’s all your fault, you dweebs!
Bargaining.
I am walking around sobbing uncontrollably, begging the Divine Mother–I’m too angry with God the Father to talk to him right now–so I’m talking only to the Mother. “Please, please, please,” I beg, “please don’t let this happen! We’ve come too far and worked so hard, and, well, honestly, we deserve to have a woman in power.”
I think my argument is solid; after all, it’s based on fact. Yeah, it’s a little emotional, but really, isn’t that to be expected?
I finally decided to speak with the Father. I cross my arms over my heart and stomp around a bit before I can talk. “This is all your fault!” I scream, accusing him of this atrocity. “Why in the world did you let this happen? I thought you were here to help and protect. So, why? Why? Why?”
Now I’m crying hysterically, not because I’m not getting the deal I’ve been begging for. Nope. Crying because deep down in my heart, I know this is not the Father’s fault.
I know that the only way out of this hole of despair is to surrender to what is. But I can’t, not ready. Yet.
Depression.
I’m sad, feeling very fragile, and wondering what to do. I’m fearful of the future and what will happen. I’m overcome with disdain for all those who follow him. I want to open my heart but can’t; I’m too afraid.
And so I cry. My trauma has been triggered, and I’m having nightmares. I barely manage to brush my teeth and have lost my appetite. Can’t watch TV, can’t read, can’t concentrate, can’t write. Words fail.
I know I need to sit in this fire and that my heart will open in time, and I’ll find my way back to presence. But for now, I am in the pit, the fire of my own making. All I can do for now is breathe and let the tears fall.
Acceptance.
In countless yoga stretches, I open my solar plexus, heart, and throat chakras. I spend hours in meditation, slowly initiating body-awareness and breath work. Walks on the beach offer a soothing distraction.
Finally, I begin to sense the sweet relief of inner peace. I am acutely aware of my disdain for the election results. In truth, I find them repulsive and scary. I do not resist these feelings. Letting go of my resistance balances my emotional body and my nervous system. I am at rest.
Clarity returns, and I am able to focus on my options.
I open the curtains, and the sun floods my room. I listen to music and dance. My face is washed in salty tears of grief and joy. I am alive.
I know he and his evil minions cannot destroy us. We are indeed golden, children of the Divine. We possess the power to turn their hate into butterflies.
Remember Christopher Robin’s words to Pooh, “You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
Spread your beautiful gossamer wings and rise up singing.
Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance.
Buddha