Resuscitation

I’m having trouble concentrating on writing creatively until I jot down how today has made me feel, which is as follows:

Resuscitate /rəˈsəsəˌtāt/ verb 1. to revive (someone) from unconsciousness or apparent death 2. make (something such as an idea or enterprise) active or vigorous again

I won’t wax poetic about how a shit ton of women marching and making a statement about their rights is going to magically birth an effective movement (only hard work, leadership, and organization will do that), but I think that I got just got brought back from a very dark and hopeless place, and so did a lot of people.

I was pretending the election didn’t happen. Totally thought I wasn’t, but then this week happened and it became clear that the crushing realization of Donald Trump becoming president was very nearly crushing me.

And after that god-awful speech, where the fuck is someone supposed to conjure up hope from?

From other people, as it turns out.

I liked to say that despite all of the shitty things that happened before and during 2016, I still had enough faith in humanity to assuredly believe that we’d never actually elect Trump. And then we did, and I couldn’t feel my stomach and cried and lost all confidence in reason.

I’m dealing with residual and ingrained cynicism, but the impact of today can’t be ignored. If that kind of solidarity can be sustained and shared, it’s an unstoppable force. And since no man, even Trump, is an immovable object, that idea is very, very beautiful.

So, revived and reporting for duty. It ain’t gonna be pretty, but let’s get to work anyway.

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