Up all night watching election coverage, having second thoughts about caring. Yesterday I voted proudly. I was excited, hoping for a better future. But this is what happens when you lose, you have to ask, “Is it worth caring?” It’s a kind of armor or a shield. To say, “I don’t care,” or “it doesn’t matter,” is a way I protect myself when I feel, like I do now, helpless and small. Funny thing is, it only makes me feel smaller, hiding behind the fraudulent shield. I do care.
My condolence is in that it was a close race. I know I am not alone. Somehow though, that isn’t as comforting as I want it to be. It brings up more second thoughts . . . could I have done something to change this? I haven’t written in months now. Only thrice, since my mother’s death, have I blogged. But everytime I think of her, I am overwhelmed remembering how private she was. She always kept her opinions to herself, suffering in silence. Her memoir reads like a history book, rarely mentioning anything personal. She never said a bad word about anybody. I didn’t even know her political affiliations until I started opening her mail for her. The thanks for donations and requests for more money from Democrats and all kinds of charities, frequently covered her table.
Besides, I didn’t start my blog to talk about politics. I wanted to talk about beliefs, the power of believing and the cruel double-edged sword it is to believe you can make a difference, to believe that the fate of the world could be depending on the power of a single person when they take a leap of faith, believe they can change things and show that they do truly (sigh) . . . care.