I didn't think I would feel the way I do today.
Afraid of the future.
A rock in the pit of my stomach.
I walked outside this afternoon, cramming in a much needed endorphin boosting workout, and saw the throngs of people watching the screen that hangs outside my office from the ABC studios. And it hit me.
Our world is now different. Very, very different.
Maybe my day to day won't be hugely affected. Maybe. But, honestly, I don't find any solace in that.
And so, so many people's day to day is already vastly different. Worse.
A friend on Facebook posted screen shots of messages her daughter is getting from "friends" about how "sad" they are that now she'll be deported. Mocking and teasing her. How do you parent through that?
How do I tell my children the story of what changed in our country to put this person in charge of it.
In the months following the election we lived in an in-between time.
And now we walk in to reality. A very alternate reality.
And we can't even get our activism right.
Because us white women want to march ahead and save the world, while still leaving behind our sisters of color, our brothers with darker skin. Any one that doesn't look like us.
The first step is always looking inside to see where WE can and should do better.
And in my own reflection I've come to understand that the man I supported, who I was thankful for these past 8 years was leading some pretty awful shit himself.
Bombing over and over and over again innocent brown skinned people all over the world in the name of protection.
Skirting along the edges of environmental protection while appeasing the people who lined his pockets.
Appeasing the sickest ruler of them all, Big Pharma.
And I'm left in this place of frankly questioning myself and how I can lead a more honest path forward to uphold and fight for what I believe in.
And I want to go curl up in a ball in my safe place with my little family around me and plug my fingers in my ears and hide for 3 years, 11 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, 12 hours and 45 minutes.
I know that's not realistic.
So instead I'm going to keep using my voice.
To call my representatives.
To march with other like minded people.
To model to my children and those around me that you cannot and should not stay silent.
Be the change.
To me, that's the only way forward.
And it is scary out there. And I'm going to keep walking around with a pit in my stomach. And maybe losing my Father 10 years ago changed me, actually definitely it did, but that change means I can do hard things. I can face fears, and terrifying futures and I can walk strongly in to them and find beauty, and happiness and positivity.
I can live with the pit and still get shit done.