Navigating Grief and Gratitude in the Wake of the Election
Navigating Grief and Gratitude in the Wake of the Election
This past week, I had the rare privilege of being in a medicine healing space—before, during, and after the election. In this bubble of love and gratitude, I was able to hold myself steady, shielded from the immediate grief, sadness, and anger that rippled through so many of my loved ones. My phone buzzed endlessly with messages like: “I just can’t get out of bed today.” Though I was spared the visceral shock, I could still feel the echoes of pain and confusion resonating deeply around me.
These moments remind me of a profound truth: the only way forward is through love. By supporting the light, joy, and excitement in one another—and by being patient and kind with ourselves—we can start to create the world we want to see. Yet, I am deeply aware of the suffering that exists and persists around us: misinformation, deliberate division, and a widespread mistrust of our own inner knowing. It is heavy and relentless.
I ache for the young, first-time voters experiencing their first crushing defeat. Their hope colliding with the harsh realities of a flawed and broken system is heartbreaking. I remember that lesson all too well. Years ago, during an election season, I fought with my partner who couldn’t understand my despair—though he eventually did. I cried at work with trusted colleagues who shared my fears for what was to come. The despair felt like a storm I couldn’t escape, and I see echoes of it now.
In another medicine space, I was given a life-changing lesson: the cosmic responsibility of my privilege. Being white, able-bodied, cis-gendered, educated, connected, past reproductive age, and wealthy enough, I live with advantages that give me safety and space to heal. This privilege carries a responsibility—not just for myself, but for the collective. For those who are threatened, who are rightfully afraid, who cannot rest as I can. My work is to step out of fear, resist over-identifying with the pain, and release the belief that people can’t care for themselves or make the right choices for their lives. Even as I write this, I feel the weight of doubt pulling at me. I am sad. I am tired. But I am also hopeful.
I am deeply grateful for the people who work tirelessly to bring freedom and care to others. I think of my colleagues at Planned Parenthood who, twenty years ago, were preparing to provide reproductive care—including abortions—under unimaginable conditions, without electricity or sterile environments. They anticipated the challenges we face today, and they were ready. They are ready.
And if this level of preparation is happening in reproductive care, it is happening elsewhere, too. We, the light workers, the lovers, the creators, the dreamers, the fighters for life-sustaining joy—we are prepared. We are ready to meet this moment with hope, skill, and connection, carrying forward the work that sustains life even in the face of adversity.
This writing is not meant to dismiss or diminish anyone’s pain and fear. It is not meant to mask the terribleness that surrounds us: the genocide, the alienation, the removal of safety and care. Instead, it is a call—a reminder—that when we are able, we must look for the light in one another. Even if it means cocooning yourself in the love of trusted people. We are all needed to turn this around.
Like my friends at Planned Parenthood, I work with other healers who have been training for moments like this. We have tapped into our intuition and our profound ability to alchemize fear into hope. I know that the how isn’t what matters. By staying present, I can find the stillness to love, to sit in darkness, to fight, and to organize.
You are not alone. We are in this together.