71 days since...

It's been 71 days.

Seventy one days since my candidate lost and their candidate won.

Seventy one days since hope was banished. Since despair set in. Since anxiety became the norm. Since I have read the news, social media, turned on the television with not a sense of momentary relaxation or escapism but with sincere dread.

Prop 8 rally - 2008

Seventy one days to wrap my mind around what has happened and what will happen. To hear the rallying cries of people I admire and respect and look to for counsel and guidance. To watch people trying their best to come together, use their voices, take a stand, do something, anything.

But it hasn't just been 71 days, has it? It's been years. Decades. Centuries. Of fighting. Of resisting. Of yelling. Of not normalizing. Of working. And I know it will continue.

HUMC ready to march - 2008

I've been political my entire life. But when I moved to Los Angeles, I stepped up. Before I knew how to get home without a map, I was riding the subway downtown and marching against Prop 8. And then it was protesting education cuts at the local level. And then working to get Obama elected. And elected again. And then trying our best with Hillary. Oh and in between all that? Rallying constantly against education cuts at every level. Fighting so that Angela could get her job back, keep her job, have protection at her job.

It doesn't end.

And yes it's only been 71 days. And I know the next four years are going to seem so much longer. And I know we have to use our voices, individually and collectively. I've read all the articles this week, listened to the podcasts, heard the opinions and rallying cries.

But this week I don't feel it.

I will not march Saturday.

2008

2008

I will pay attention. I will listen. I will watch. I will plan. I will contemplate. I will help Angela study for a salary point class because those cuts will come and she'll have to learn to do more for her kids with less. I'll retweet articles for the cause. I'll like all of your posts. I'll cheer you on.

But right now? I'm not sure what the march is for. I want something more concrete. I need tangible. I need action items. I need to know how to use my voice. For the union? For the teachers? I'm there. I'm all over it. For Planned Parenthood? I'm in. For gay marriage? Yep. For my candidate? I will pick up the phone (even though I hated that part of it).

But not this weekend.

2016

2016

It's been 71 days. I am hopeful. I am heartbroken. I will march again. I will rally. Eventually. I will figure out what my heart is telling my brain. I will pray. I will be with you in spirit. I love you all. But Saturday I will be quieter. And I think that's all right. It's taken me weeks to figure out how to say that out loud. How to feel like I'm not letting people down by not marching. But I realize that the most important person I have to be okay with on Saturday is me. And I am.

I am heartbroken. But more? I am hopeful. And I'll come back around. I promise. To myself more than anyone else. I promise.