Moon Memo: I'm not ok. And that's ok.
Hello from November 7, two days after an election where America chose its easy way.
What can I say about the election? That I'm not surprised? That I'm still extremely heart broken? That I wish I didn't understand how he could be president again, but absolutely do understand? That because this is America, a nation founded through blood and slavery, through war and conquest, through the plague blanket and the lash? That the Democratic Party didn't see the pain of people, and was willing to side with genocide and tyranny, and shut down people who spoke against it in the name of "democracy"? That the facists win because people are short sighted and cruel and want personal over collective?
I spent yesterday hugging queer friends who know they are going to suffer. I told them the story of how my egg cracked when the last election he won occurred. Because at least if the world was coming to an end I was going to be a woman. That was easier then. Now it just feels like a bigger risk than I knew it would be.
I forget that so many of these folks are so young in transition, even if they are older than I am. They came out in a time of hope. Even though the last 4 years were hard, even though the pandemic was hard, they had it easier than any other time in history. That doesn't mean that they had it easy. Just easier. They have had their surgeries. They walked into a doctor's office and said "I want hormones,"
and they got them.
So they are pretty broken right now.
I tried to be strong for them. And then I shattered against my own feelings. I logged off of work today, two dead friends deep since October, an election going the way I feared it would, a hug too many for people that needed support, and I just started sobbing.
I fell asleep and dreamed that I was against a wall, and they were doing terrible things to me, and then forced me into jeans and a t-shirt, and cut my hair, and handed me a rifle. And I dreamed that some of the skinny passing girls walked by, and let it happen. And that was cruel of my dream towards the girls I care about. It says something about the fear I have of the dolls actions towards the bricks among them.
I'm not ok.
I try to be ok for the others. But I'm not ok. I'm in mourning, and I am not ok. I am fat and without surgeries and I am not ok. I am trying to live for a bunch of dead girls, and I'm not ok.
I walked through crunchy leaves. I watched a comfort film. I drank fizzy water. I let myself feel all the feelings.
And I'm not ok. And it's ok to not be ok.