Lord, Hear Our Prayer

We don't talk politics.

I try to put on a brave face and not let everyone know how terrified I am at this moment. I fail miserably. Because a man who has threatened to dismantle the Affordable Care Act is our current president-elect. I know there is an alternate health care plan in the works by this man: I am well aware of it. But coordinating without a gap in medication seems impossible considering how hard it was to get medication for just the next month.

We don't talk politics. 

Even though one of us copes with several forms of mental illness. She doesn't know me when I'm off my meds: simply put, I am not the same person. I am hollow. I am consumed with irrational guilt. In certain instances, I've been delusional. I've needed hospitalization and suicide watch. I am terrified that I will need it again at some point in the near future.

We don't talk politics.

She believes that if I just give him a chance I would see: our children would be safer. I fail to see how the my daughter will be safer or more secure with a mother too mired in her own worries to function. Each break you have is harder to come back from. Sometimes you don't come back at all depending on the severity of the absence of reality.

We don't talk politics.

She believes firmly in her second amendment rights. She's not being unreasonable. I believe firmly in the protections granted by the first amendment. I'm not unreasonable either. But it shakes me that as a mentally ill person that it will be cheaper for me to buy and maintain a gun and all the associated accessories than it will be for a month's worth of medication without insurance.

We don't talk politics.

There are many different ways to support your brothers and sisters at this time. Encouraging them in their activism is one of them. On the one hand, she sincerely says my voice matters. On the other, she voted for policies that aim to silence it. I love her dearly but I need more than pity or pretty words right now: as scary as this is, I need some kind of immediate action. We both want America to remain peaceful, but change is often tumultuous. And as the hate caused by this election is unprecedented, the equal and opposite reaction to it must also be.

We don't talk politics. 

We argue over what America wants. This country elected a new President through traditional means, though one candidate seems to have a slight edge regarding the popular vote. So essentially half of Americans who voted said they wanted one candidate and half wanted the other. We are told that we should unite, but divides like this will take time to heal. In fact, they might not even take at all. We are left with protests and uncertainly. Both of us have starkly different views of what it takes to be a patriot after such controversy.

We don't talk politics.

We both want America to have a better future, we just seem to have different definitions of what that future looks like. We see one another as somehow leading the country backwards. I'm not discounting either view at this point. But I admit that as a chronically ill person I am more than slightly biased and frightened by the changes so many seem to want.

We don't talk politics.

We don't talk about them because we want to remain friends. I love her, and she loves me. We want desperately to be united, though we are clearly divided. By distance. And oh, what an interminable distance it seems at this moment. 

We don't talk politics. 

But clearly, we do. Because it is important to discuss our differences. To embrace them takes time and effort, but I have to believe that nothing is impossible. This agnostic does occasionally pray for special people and special occasions. And I'm praying with all the strength I have left right now. As one of my favorite people often says, you have a blessed day. And may God or whatever deity you pray to come to your aid at this difficult time for our nation.