I’ve been struggling with how to put into words what I feel right now. I’m not writing about adventures today, or fixer uppers, but instead, I need to get out something that’s weighing heavily on me lately.
From most points, life looks really good for Mark and I right now. We have good jobs, and we love what we do. We have a beautiful old house in a beautiful old neighborhood, a house that we got to fix up this year. We have a fenced in yard for Boone to run around in, one with plenty of squirrels for Baxter to terrorize. Just this year, we’ve traveled to London and Paris, Disneyland, road tripped to Big Bend, Austin, San Antonio, and across the southeast, and recently spent two weeks in Alaska. Everything is perfect.
But.
There’s always a but, isn’t there?
But I struggle with balancing the good things in my life with what I see happening in our world right now.
Many of you understand these struggles, because you’re struggling with it too.
I spent nearly a week last November crying intermittently. Like many Americans, I was frightened for what would happen when our new president took office in January. I was worried because the things he said while campaigning – the hateful, misogynistic, racist things – might become policy.
Then reason took hold. Maybe it won’t be so bad, I thought. Maybe he’ll surround himself with people that can temper him, that can help him learn to govern. Maybe he can be reasoned with and come to understand that the bombastic things he says and tweets aren’t helping to make our country great.
But.
It hasn’t worked out that way, at least not in my eyes. I watch the news and every day grow more horrified at what is happening. Jeff Sessions, a racist, being charged with defending civil liberties as attorney general. The attempted repeal of the ACA, a policy that has helped and protected so many Americans. One that nearly everyone has benefited from, whether they realize it or not. The Russia investigations. ISIS. North Korea.
And this week: DACA. A policy that has likely impacted people I know personally, students that sit in my classroom everyday. Kids that were brought here at a young age and raised to believe in the American dream.
But what is the American dream, now? What does it mean? Are they empty words?
I’m struggling with this.
I’ve been teaching political culture in my American Government classes over the last week or so. What it means, how it develops. What are those truths that we hold to be self evident? Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. That all men are created equal, regardless of race, color, creed, or gender.
But in today’s world, are these empty words? Does everyone truly believe that all men (and women) are created equal?
I hesitate to say yes.
I’ve talked about what happened in Charlottesville with my students. I get so many different reactions when I talk about equality, about opportunities, about what “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” really means.
I know what I think it means. I think it means that everyone – regardless of race, color, creed, gender, national origin, immigration status – has the opportunity to pursue the American dream.
BUT.
Not everyone feels that way. Our president talks about making America great again. About bringing back manufacturing, saving coal, building pipelines, and building a wall to keep the riffraff out of our country. I challenge him: what about those things makes a country great?
We’re a country of immigrants, of dreamers, of hard workers. There are so many things about this country to love. So many things to try to protect. But how do we protect them when it seems like they are being assaulted anew every day, and from the highest office in the land? How do we fix what’s being broken every single day?
I try to take care of myself. I go to the gym, I cook, I drink a glass of wine, I eat chocolate, I read books and magazines, I like to take long walks (better if they’re with the dogs), I’m learning to golf. I take bubble baths. I play records. I write on this blog from time to time. I dream. I pray.
But I worry, too. I watch the news in the morning or read the paper, and what I see frightens me. The acute fear I felt last November, when I cried for a week, has deepened into an anxiety that twists around in my stomach. I worry each morning about the tweets and the press briefings and the hatred that swirls around. I worry about the divisions in our country. I worry that I’m starting not to recognize this place that we call home.
People say everything happens for a reason (I really hate this cliche, BUT…). I’m struggling to find the reason here. Surely there’s a plan for this. There is some reason why our country is being tried in this way. There has to be. This is the thought that I hold onto now – that in the end, we will come out stronger or better for this trial.
It doesn’t help the anxiety much. I wonder what I personally can do (haven’t figured that out yet). I write to senators, I support causes, I try to teach my children well. I try to love them even when they make me mad. It’s hard sometimes. But I have this hope, over all of the anxiety, that maybe my little efforts today will resonate, and things will be better tomorrow.
I’m sure many people won’t have read this far. But if you did, thank you. I usually try to avoid pouring my heart out on the internets, especially about something so political. This has been weighing so heavily on my heart for so long now, I just felt I needed to get the words out. So, thanks for reading, if you’re still there. I’m sending you some love, from out here in Texas.