Rose-colored glasses

Three days ago, I hoped.

Two days ago, I grieved. Deeply.

Yesterday, I processed.

Today, I move forward.

I move forward with the knowledge that I was still looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, even if they had faded over the last eight years.

They are firmly removed from my view now.

In 2016, I was dumbfounded by the choice many of my fellow Americans had made for our president. I didn’t understand how someone like him could be elected.

So, I spent the next few years educating myself about how we arrived at that moment. I invested my time and talents into local political organizing. Values became central to my existence.

When 2020’s election happened, I thought we had started turning the corner.

And then January 6, 2021, came and the carnage devastated me. My laptop’s background image is the photo I took of the Bridger Mountains that day when my husband and I took a drive, listening in horror to NPR. We didn’t know what else to do. Our Capitol, our democracy, was under attack. Literally.

As the insurrection quieted, a thought lingered that perhaps we hadn’t turned the corner after all.

But things settled.

Our life of privilege became even more privileged.

I dabbled in local politics still, but only on my terms, focusing on specific races and projects rather than the whole. I rested. Burnout takes a toll and takes years to recover from.

Paying attention to the world didn’t seem as necessary. Healing was more important.

My mom needed more help and we moved her to Montana. My life shifted to be a stay-at-home daughter, a life that didn’t sit well with me initially but has come to matter more deeply than I can express.

He was still there, the bogeyman in the background. Menacing and stupid and vile. All the things he’s always been.

But we wouldn’t do it again. We couldn’t. We’re better than that.

Aren’t we?

When Vice President Kamala Harris became the Democratic nominee, I rejoiced. The coalition building around her, overnight, was breathtaking. Joy was back and fighting against tyranny and oppression and a bleak view of the world.

I felt as if we had shifted timelines.

Those rose-colored glasses can be a powerful stimulant.

When I woke up this Wednesday, I didn’t immediately reach for my phone. I wanted a few minutes of peace, a few minutes in the world I knew before I looked at the news.

We weren’t better than that after all.

The numbness hit first and lingered for hours. The early morning text messages between groups of girlfriends did not bring comfort. Sorrow ate away at me. Rage built under the surface.

My husband had been up for hours by then, had processed the news, and was already making plans. It overwhelmed me.

I wasn’t ready to “fix” things. It was not time to make plans. I needed to sit in my grief and allow myself to feel it all.

It didn’t help that it was my dead father’s birthday.

But thanks to that grief of his passing, I knew how to better communicate with those around me that I needed the space to grieve. That it was okay for me to grieve. I didn’t need anyone else’s permission — only mine.

In my grieving, I wrote. For the first time in months, I truly wrote.

And I remembered that I have to write. No matter how hard things get or how overwhelmed I am, writing is what grounds me. It keeps me connected to me. Keeps me grounded in my values.

And we all need to be grounded in our values moving forward.

So, if you’re like me and need to find grounding in the chaos that is our reality, I have a few thoughts below. None of these are profound, and I learned a lot of them from others. They have helped and will continue to help me as I navigate the present. I hope they help you too.

And always remember, you are doing great.

❤️ Alyson

1. Take care of yourself first. No one else can. Give yourself permission to grieve and rage and cry. All your feelings are valid and you don’t need to explain yourself to anyone. Get outside. Do your favorite craft. Pick up a fantasy novel. Write. Create. Breath deeply. Break a plate or twenty. Do what you need to do for yourself. Find the thing that grounds you. Remember, you have to put on your oxygen mask on before you can help others.
2. Reach out to your people. You know who they are. Or maybe you are just finding them. The system want us to be isolated. They want us to feel like we are alone, especially if we live in a place where we now know, without a doubt, that we are in the minority. But just because you are in the minority does not mean you are alone. And if you think you have no one else to reach out to, reach out to me. I’m here and ready to be in community with you.
3. Check your privilege. On election day, I scolded my father-in-law for being critical of the people standing in line registering to vote. “Why couldn’t they have done it sooner? I just don’t understand, it’s so easy to do ahead of time,” he stated. For privileged people, yes, it’s easy to register, get an absentee ballot, and send it in before the deadline. What about people going to school with two part-time jobs trying to keep up with the bills? What about the single parent just trying to get through the day? Or the unhoused person working full-time who can’t afford rent? The system is designed to suppress the vote. Why was the voter turnout so much higher in 2020 than it was in 2024? Because many states automatically sent ballots in the mail to all registered voters during the pandemic. It’s why Montana’s turnout in 2020 was 80% but only about 70% this year. Recognizing our privileges in the system designed for the privileged helps us see what we need to work to change. I write about privilege as often as I do for a reason: Privilege, Unlearning, Burnout Recovery Recipe. I challenge you to write down all the ways you experience privilege. It’s only for you, but it may help you see how those privileges help perpetuate the system that keeps people like our president-elect in power.
4. Prepare yourself. Get rid of your rose-colored glasses. We will still sow seeds of love and compassion and kindness and joy (we must!) and we also can prepare for the tyranny to come. The quickest read and maybe the most important book on this is Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny. It’s a small and powerful book. Read it on your own. Read it with your family. Read it with your community.
5. Rest. Often and in lots of different ways. Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey gave me the courage to rest. Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Everyday by Kaitlin B. Curtis is another tool in this arsenal. Rest doesn't just mean getting a good night's sleep (although that helps.) It also means taking breaks from things that are upsetting you. For example, I have not read much of the news the last few days because I sense my blood pressure rise each time I try. I will get back to being informed, but for the moment, the onslaught of post-election analysis is not helping, so I am protecting myself from it so that I can remain firm in my grounding. Take breaks when you need, and prioritize rest as much as possible.
6. Recognize the work never ends AND that you CANNOT do it all. I burned out because I was trying to do just that. I took on too much, believing no one else could do what I was doing. I was arrogant and selfish, and to this day, I remind myself constantly that none of the issues we face can be solved by one person. There are many injustices and inequalities in this world, and it’s only going to get worse. That doesn’t mean you start fighting against all of them. If you have the financial resources, start a monthly donation to the cause(s) that matters most to you. For my husband and me, we donate to a wide range of organizations, from abortion access funds to independent journalism. If you have the privilege of flexible or abundant time, find the organization doing the work you want to be a part of and show up. Volunteer your time and talent and join the community. Protect yourself in that work, though. Remember, you cannot do it all. You are not alone — there is community to be found. There are structures in place and guidance to be given and you will not be starting from scratch. You are not alone.
7. Seek out other resources. I’m reading this one constantly, which explains the influence in what I'm sharing today. I’ve read some of these essays, but not all, and if you’re in a good space for it, I highly recommend reading Anne Helen Peterson’s essay from Wednesday. Take the ones that resonate or that you find helpful, and leave all the others behind. That includes anything that I share or suggest. I write for myself first, and this exercise helped clarify and reaffirm many lessons I’ve learned in the last eight years. It also reminds me of how much I still have to learn.
8. Use your power. Disagree with me and others in your life. Guide us to place where we can empathize more and hate less and be open when others do the same for you. Share resources helping you navigate right now. Do not retreat. Do not ignore what is happening outside your door (but remember, take breaks when you need). Stand firmly in your values and ground yourself in love, compassion, kindness, empathy, and a commitment to building a better world for all.

You and I are doing the best we can in a system designed to help only certain people. I benefit greatly from that system and I will continue to work for the liberation of all from that system.

Because there is a better world to be made.