Upon my return from the Texas Democratic Convention I’m experiencing grief.
I’m mourning the death of a dream.
Prone to weeping. While doing my make up, driving the car, working out. I’m just quietly weeping. I haven’t wanted to write. I’m depressed and emotional.
I talked to lots of people this weekend and some of it made me excited and some of it made me sad, angry or depressed.
I bought the I heart Obama shirt for my daughter, but my heart wasn’t in it. My heart is broken.
I don’t want that shirt. I don’t heart Obama, she said. I heart Hillary.
She helped me put the Obama stickers on my car. We’re resigned. Defeated.
I’m trying desperately not to be angry or feel betrayed by other women. Not to be angry at my husband. Not to be angry. But that only leaves me with the emotions of defeat and sadness and hurt.
I have yet to see a man champion any woman’s issues, personal or political, as if they were his own.
My father has not. My brothers have not. My husband has not. My ex-boyfriends have not. My church leaders have not. My bosses have not. My elected officials have not.
Not. One. Single. Time.
Apathy is no better than misogyny.
Where there was a light at the end of the tunnel that seemed to get nearer, it has receded again at least 4 and possibly 8 years away.
Ainsley will be 14 years old before the light comes close again, unless the next president is a total failure. Which do I hope for?
I didn’t realize how much I wanted Hillary to win. It’s not really surprising. But, I regret not doing more. I should’ve donated more money. I should have wrote more about her. Made phone calls. I was too afraid of criticism.
Right now I’m just going about my business weeping and mourning.
Presidential Score: Men 44. Women ZERO.