You haven’t heard much from me lately because I have been so consumed by anxiety that it has nearly paralyzed me. Reading the NY Times every day on my phone before I get out of bed. Watching Morning Joe over breakfast. Morning, noon, and night checking in on CNN and MSNBC. Scrolling my social media for any glimmers of hope. Following the polls like the scoreboard at a championship game with everything on the line.
I have been genuinely fearful that I might have a nervous breakdown on November 5. I’ve gotta figure out how to get a grip. This isn’t good for my mental health.
In September, I took a 10-day trip to Ireland with a lovely group of people. I thought it would be a great distraction for me. I needed to get away from this stuff. Because I would be traveling with people I hadn’t met, all from the Carolinas, I was worried that some would be Trumpies, and it would be difficult for me to relax with them. In reality, just the opposite proved true. They pretty much felt the same way about Trump as I did, and they weren’t afraid to make their opinions known throughout the trip. Apparently, there is no escaping this madness.
It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone in my anxiety. But that doesn’t help me deal with it. I was so distraught after Biden decided to run again that I was in a perpetual state of despair. When he withdrew, I wept. When he endorsed Harris, I wept. All through the Democratic National Convention, I wept. When I watch her on the campaign trail, I weep.
My daughter, Gretchen, has an amazing ability to compartmentalize and rise above what she can’t control. It’s a solid coping mechanism that’s gotten her through some tough times. She has a strength about her, and an ability to let things go, when they need to be let go, that I sorely lack. I want to stop obsessing over negative stuff, to live in the moment, and to accept what I can’t control. I long to be like Gretchen, to do my best and live with whatever happens because, really, what choice do I have?
Maybe this is how I could survive these days of uncertainty, I thought. I vowed that I would stop checking my phone, my TV and my computer for one day and see how it felt. Surely, I could do this. I almost slipped when 11 a.m. rolled around and my girlfriends on The View were meeting without me, but I held my ground. I made it until 10 o’clock that night, when I heard Lawrence O’Donnell on MSNBC whispering my name. I’ll just check in for the first 10 minutes, I said. And I was back at it.
I can’t look away. My obsession with the election has a hold on me; I can’t let it go. But it’s more than just a lack of willpower. It’s simply not who I am.When something is on my mind, I go after it relentlessly, like a dog with a bone, until it's resolved. Sometimes this has served me well, and other times, not so much, but it's always exhausting. As I've gotten older, this character trait has become even more pronounced.
The unknown makes me a bit bonkers. When I was little I always peeked at my Christmas gifts and knew everything I was getting before Christmas morning. Somewhere in the first couple of chapters of reading a novel, I normally skip to the end to see how it all turns out. I binge shows on T.V. because I have to get to the finale as quickly as possible. By reading the spoilers online, I always know who The Bachelor picks at the end of the season before it even begins. Some would say this ruins all the fun. For me, it simply puts me out of my misery so I can enjoy myself.
Knowing this about myself, I think I finally figured out the best way to cope with the 2024 presidential election. I will just skip to the end. No need to fear the unknown. I already know what happens. Harris wins. Easy enough. No reason to fret. I will watch the process unfold as someone who already knows how it ends. Kamala Harris will be the next President of the United States. Decided. And done. She wins.
She has to.
