You know those moments. You’re about to post something, and you have a thought. Maybe this is ill timed, or insensitive, or just not needed. I had one of those moments recently. And I posted anyway.
It was November 6th. I woke up to the election results, and I had a lot of feelings. Disbelief. Grief. Anger. Fear. I’d been ready to celebrate our first female president elect. Just the thought of this possibility had brought tears to my eyes. This, obviously, did not happen. And I had, as I’ve mentioned, a lot of feelings about it.
I’ve been writing a thesis on the healing of trauma and researching the beautiful writings of Julian of Norwich. Her words rang in my mind. “All shall be well.” I knew she’d penned these words, received from Christ in the midst of his suffering, in the midst of the trauma and upheaval of her world. Plague, war, religious division. I knew she offered these words to us with the understanding that we’d face the same, and that we’d find healing in the face of co-suffering love.
So I prepped a post. A breath prayer with Julian’s words.
I also had the fleeting thought, with so many people grieving these results, facing so much uncertainty, so much fear, that this prayer, out of context, might be, shall we say, tone deaf. Insensitive. Poorly timed. But I apparently wasn’t listening well that day. And I posted anyway.
Then I saw a friend’s post. The world is on fire and spiritual directors are offering breath prayers.
Shit. That’s me.
To those of you who’ve felt the sting of unhelpful responses in this season, responses lacking empathy and weight, responses that made you feel unseen, I apologize. If my post felt that way to you, I’m deeply sorry.
Now that some time has passed, I’ve been wondering what might be more helpful. What are we to do? I have a few thoughts. Maybe at least one is helpful.
Practice radical self care. This might mean a good therapist. Someone trusted who does body work or soul care. Lunches or dinners with safe friends. Meditation and breath work. Smashing plates (safely, perhaps in a large garbage can). Screaming (perhaps in your car or in the woods). Crying. Lamenting. Watching less news. Watching more shows that make you laugh. Circling your safe people. Reaching out to those you know who may be at risk in light of the current political climate. Rest. Try, as best you can, to live in the present moment.
And here’s a big one for all of us. Find and listen to trusted leaders (like my friend who made the post) in groups marginalized (or even more marginalized) by the coming administration. Learn from them. Be formed by them. Amplify their voices. If and when it’s time to act together, they will lead the way.
For me, I’m seeking to follow the way of love rather than fear. To listen to God and to others, seeking to learn. To grow in awareness of my privilege and all the ways it shapes my responses. And to believe, in the end, that all will, indeed, be well.