I SHOULD be giddy.
I SHOULD be overjoyed.
I SHOULD be doing a “Maury-You-are-not-the-baby!” dance:
Instead I’m reflecting quietly.
If you followed me on Blogger, you may have read my “Letting Go” series. The Letting Go series was written during an extremely difficult part of my life. A time when I was so depressed, so down, so confused I didn’t know HOW I would be able to lift my head again.
I’m proud to say that with time, a few stink eyes, and intuitive work I was able to numb the hurt. This month, I am at a point where I can FULLY put that hurt away and lift my head a little higher and walk a little straighter.
At a poorly attended meeting, I happened to sit near one of the people who was quite vocal about not voting for me. In the past I would have regarded this woman with attitude and dismissal, but I listened to her. Taking ME out the equation, I understood that the way she voted was because I am a Republican. She didn’t do her own research or consider the assistance I provided her when she needed it. She saw that “R” and let emotion take away from fact.
Not to rehash, but we know how this story ends.
Because of the woman resurfacing, I’m on guard – leery and full of skepticism about what she wants. The inner growth of the past year allows me to listen and HEAR what she says rather than let images of her head exploding dance through my mind.
Some people did not cast a vote because they thought the other candidate was better. Those who KNOW how I assisted them, those who KNOW I was prompt with return calls, those who knew The Teen and The PreTeen because one of them was with me when I visited to personally address their issues: to you I say shame on you.
One of the things I learned from working with Foreign Nationals (I prefer this to immigrants) is that democracy is sacred to them, a right that they exercise with care, intelligence, and research. Unfortunately Americans don’t always treat the voting process this way. Americans stick to straight party lines, wavering sometimes, but mainly they vote straight party and waltz out the booth, feeling smug that they did their duty. But your duty ain’t squat if you are casting your vote not knowing how that person plans to represent you (can we say GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN?).
Watching the face of this woman I had my Maury daddy moment. Each part of the meeting I saw her shoulders sag a bit, I saw her face crumble and heard the disgusted sighs which was enough for me to gather my things and leave the meeting feeling…free.
At home, I wrote one last letter for closure. The letter is to someone who claimed to be a friend and an ally. I have learned there is no such things in politics. In the letter I say that I harbor no ill will and I am thankful for the lesson learned. While this person has moved on to their next cause, my community still hurts. Despite this, I thank the person I am writing to. I tell them that I had to struggle through a black space, but I made it out. I am stronger, sometimes wearier, but a better person.
I hit send and the weight has been lifted completely.