How to handle pre-election anxiety

I use this quote a lot.

Michelle Obama: “Being president,” she said, “doesn’t change who you are, it reveals who you are."

Okay, now insert “Waiting for the election results…”

“Waiting for the election results… doesn’t change who you are, it reveals who you are.”

Some people can’t sleep.

Some people have planted themselves on their kitchen floor and are eating pudding out of an 8"10" sheet cake pan.

Some people are shopping for themselves and for everyone they know for the next ten years of holidays.

Some people are making lists. Very long lists.

Some people are very drunk.

Some people are preparing to get very drunk.

Some people are setting up their edibles neatly on a tray that appears similar to one their grandmother would have served open-faced sandwiches on.

Some people are yelling at their partners.

Most people are yelling at their partners.

If people are not yelling at their partners, they can tell you exactly, down to the last detail, what they’ve never really liked about their partners. It’s as if God dropped a relationship microscope onto their doorstep and they can see exactly what is wrong with everyone they have allowed into their life.

The general feeling in America right now is very bad PMS.


What are you going to do after the election?

Before the election, we touted “Make a Plan!” So, we made a plan. We figured out where to vote. We checked our driver’s license expiration date. We checked our car for gas. We remembered to wear our mask. We packed hand wipes. We bought a backpack folding chair. We bought snacks. We brought water. We voted.

Done. Check.

Now what?

I don’t know.

Do you know?

Who knows?

Someone must know.

Everything I have read involves people buying things.




If only the world was fixed with snacks.

The problem is, that not only are we all suffering from PMS symptoms, we are also suffering from PTSD symptoms from the last election.

2016 was our JFK. It was our “Where were you?”

We watched the map of the USA turn red and we have all been having nightmares ever since. Last night I dreamed I was sending a postcard to QAnon.

Four years ago, I woke up numerous times and cried.

This year, we have to prepare, but how?

With optimism.

It’s finally time to break up with that abusive boyfriend who calls himself President. It’s time to pull out the ice cream and stir in the Oreos. It’s time to buy everyone you know holiday gifts for the next ten years. Do something. Do anything. Just don’t give up.

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