Oof. Like most people, this month has felt like a sucker punch to my stomach -- taking the air and balance right out of me. At this moment, life feels scary and uncertain; a new layer of grief, doom and gloom feels pending. What I have learned about loss and grief is that it takes the wind right out of your sail, and it’s important to heal and rest. But we also have to be careful not to go down the road of despair for too long. When we do that, we let all of the gas out of our tank, and we give up on what’s possible. Right now, my biggest fear isn’t what’s going to happen after the elections, it's more so that I hope we (people who are voting for Biden/Harris) don’t let our emotions of hopelessness and helplessness make us give up 34 days before the elections. The last push is always the hardest.
When I lost my mother 10 years ago while going through chemotherapy, my whole world stopped turning. The ground beneath me disappeared and my body felt numb -- you could put an ice cube in the palm of my hand and I wouldn’t flinch. The only thing I could feel was this hollow emptiness inside my soul echoing when I cried. Death made me immobile for a while. Even though I kept getting out of bed every day, working out and going to chemo, I couldn’t think about “being productive” or giving back. My cup felt so empty and hollow.
10 years later, I feel a slight wave of the similar grief surging through my heart. Not only because I just honored a 10 year memorial for my mother, but I feel the grief of progress. The progress that the Obama Administration made to protect nature, to bring our country one step closer to universal healthcare, and the progress RGB created for women and the LGBTQ+ community. My biggest fear is that we will collectively let our grief hold us hostage. We will let our grief dismantle us before we reach the election finish line.
What got me through my darkest days going through chemo and holding my mother’s grief, was not only my meditation practice, but it was being kind to others. When I got on the bus, I would look into the bus driver’s eyes and ask, how are you? I wanted to make sure they felt appreciated and seen. This action was only slightly selfish because it gave me strength to see others light up and be witnessed. So right now, when your tank might feel empty and you want to give up, it is essential to keep going and think about the greater world you want to see. It’s not about being productive. It is about doing the right thing. I keep asking myself: what side of history do I want to be on? What change do I want to be a part of? What’s just one moral and kind thing I can do at this moment?
It’s going to take effort -- I am sorry to say. It is going to take effort and when your gas tank feels low or you are accustomed to only taking care of your immediate family, it might feel uncomfortable. Internal comments like ‘this is so inconvenient’ or ‘this is hard’ or ‘this is taking too much of my time’ might pop up. These thoughts popped up for me the other day when I was volunteering to register voters, but I kept going because I want to act from my values and stay connected to the vision of the America I want to be a part of.
What vision of America do you want to see? What action can you take from your values? If you are experiencing grief, know you are not alone. Give yourself a lot of compassion and take note of how you are personally experiencing grief. Here are some signs and symptoms from the Mayo Clinic. Ask yourself, what’s one tiny act of kindness I can do for myself and others at this moment? What’s just one moral and kind thing I can do at this moment?