Hello, I am still alive. Sorry it’s been so long since my last post. Now that the world is falling apart in a new and exciting way every single day, I’ve returned to write about my feelings.
Recently, I got broken up with in the kindest and gentlest way anyone has ever been broken up with. There was rosé involved. But despite the care used to deliver the final blow, or maybe because of it, I was devastated. I am devastated. So I find myself in a world where men in suits are working hard everyday to ignorantly or spitefully take away rights from women and minorities, struggling with the feelings I have for one man. The worst storyline in a dystopian novel.
The best storyline of course, is the women. The women I know, who I have angrily and tearfully turned to so many times in my life but especially since November 9, have kept me together this month. Each one urging me to take my time, feel my feelings, offering curses and ire that weren’t necessary except in their offering. Day drinking with me and reminding me that grief is human and normal and that even though I loathe being human and normal, it’s ok. They enveloped me in an estrogen-bound coven until I was ready to be a human on my own again.
There have of course been wonderful men too, but as someone very wise once told me, it’s ok for things to just be in celebration of women. A march can just be about reproductive rights and equal pay and the anger of men living their lives after committing atrocities against bodies they don’t value as human. A benefit can just be for women. We share a quiet rage that we struggle to express for fear of being called irrational or laughed at. We are bonded because we are not believed. But we believe each other. And today I am humbled and grateful for that belief and validation.