Tonight at 11:
Horrible election results leave nation stunned, overtly racist, and in a panic. But how the results are affecting vulnerable, angry women in Western Washington?
Speaking your mind over feeling like shit: how standing up for things can put what you're standing up for in jeopardy.
Choosing cheap health insurance over employment: what some college debt-ridden adults are sacrificing just to afford coverage and life-saving medication
A break up leaves two in critical condition. More but hopefully less at 11pm.
Our top story: we have a failed real estate mogul, sexist demagogue, sympathetic white supremacist, racist confidant as our president-elect. A lot of the country felt as if we should elect someone who is anti-establishment, but their seemingly best option chose people from the actual establishment to complete his non-ethical purge of the normalcy we once had.
It's been a depressing ten days. On the day of the election, I was working at King County Elections sorting ballots that came in through our mail-in system in Washington State. This job was extremely temporary since we were only counting the ballots that came in before 8pm on November 8th. Ballots were divided into two groups, the ones that could be read in a scanner and those who ate breakfast over their ballot, filled in more than one bubble per elected candidate because why not make it multiple choice when it really isn't, and wrote in candidates such as Harambe, Megatron, Homer Simpson, My Butt, Bernie Sanders, and I Don't Care.
I wasn't allowed to have my phone on me or any belongings for the fear I would steal ballots or any voter information. With a partner, we could sort 1500 ballots per day. We wore blue latex gloves to avoid paper cuts and for the extra grip while thumbing through decisions. At times, the entire floor of King County Elections looked like a cigarette factory in a third world country. No one talks while counting and recounting piles of 20 ballots, focused and diligent. The general election provided the highest voter turn out in the county's history, roughly 1.2 million votes out of approximately four million ballots distributed. It was mindless work for a high hourly wage, even though it only gave me nine days of work.
I was ready to start at Amazon in a distribution center on East Marginal when it became apparent I would need to go back on Obamacare because my family can no longer afford my current health insurance plan. I know that sounds weird like, "well if you had a job, wouldn't you be able to pay for it?" Not necessarily.
A lot of my arguments in the last week have stemmed from the uproar over Dingle Grump repealing the program which saved the lives of thousands of Americans. Instead of being permanently covered due to a pre-existing condition, insurance companies have the right to deny me because I'm "high risk." They would need to pay more to cover me, and if an insurance company accepts me, I'll have to pay through my ass because of the stigma producing label. If I go back on Obamacare while it's still available, which is income based, I won't have to pay anything for my premiums or copays. If I work, I'll have to pay more, which I won't be able to afford on my own even if I'm working. I feel like I'll never really be living on my own as long as someone is assisting me with the medical bills and payments I'll need to pay for life. So I had to make a decision: risk not finding work until I can get free healthcare, or get a job to support myself but have to pay a bundle in health insurance costs and prescriptions.
My health insurance is non-negotiable, unfortunately. I can't risk the possibility of not being covered. Obviously this would be different if I had to forego an allergy medication or a kind of lotion. But diabetes is immune to any kind of OTC treatment or recommendations from your shitty vegan friend. I can't beat the system because the system has something I need, and byway of capitalism, the supply and demand feature of medication and keeping myself alive relies upon needing a lot of money for something I can't go without.
This election has spawned a lot of self-hatred within myself. If I wasn't a woman or a person with a disability, I wouldn't be nearly as hard on myself, something I'm incredibly good at, right up there with parallel parking and turning away obvious things that are good for me. I wouldn't say I've been having a pity party, but it's more of a realization that I actually have to worry about things I should have access to, things I have never gone without, suddenly disappearing because President-Elect Pussy Grabber is only interested in himself and other xenophobic people like himself. Liking myself was already hard enough, but with legislation previously passed by Pence and other idiots taking control it has only become easier. I actually had to do research to see if I can get drugs sent down from Canada. I have to be prepared for the worst possible outcome, something my friends and family may not all together understand. Insulin is time sensitive, as in I need to take one kind once a day at the same time to keep my blood sugar at a healthy level while I can only take the other kind every 4-5 hours before meals. Keeping track of all the math and bullshit that comes along with this disease came to a head about two weeks ago and while I haven't been able to completely ignore it, there are times where I think about the freed up brainpower I could acquire if I wasn't so preoccupied with making sure I stay alive. This election brought out the worst in me and it still isn't over. I still have two whole months before Derfus Gump takes office.
I really didn't think Donger Twusp would get elected. But then the numbers started pouring in from all over the country and it was revealed somewhere around 41% of eligible voters didn't vote. These were the same people who said voting doesn't matter, Bernie people who refused to see a different yet positive outcome, and those who simply didn't understand the electoral college, a process which Donald Trump was incredibly against, and then all of a sudden, incredibly for. Yep, the guy who said the election was rigged won the election. He and his weird immigrant wife and strange looking adult male children are taking over for Obama on January 20th, and they're not off to a good start by choosing cabinet members such as climate change deniers, white supremacist sympathizers, and surgeons who also ran for president and who were also deemed unqualified. Sleepy Doctor Ben Carson even held back and was like "lol no dude...no." It was a shock to see how many people in King County (mostly people with Caucasian-esque names who live in Bellevue) actually voted for our new fascist leader, probably the same people who use "communism" and "socialism" interchangeably.
I've had to stand up for myself more often than not as of recent, either because of work or causes for which I'm passionate. I had a therapy appointment where I hashed out a lot of instances where I feel like I should have said something when I didn't, causing me to ruminate on the conflict for sometimes years. These aren't instances of a George Costanza comeback where he drove to Akron to zing a guy. These were specific instances of not wanting to be bulldozed, backed into a corner, pigeon holed, etc. I'm not good at acting like everything is fine but it's not. Not good at all. But usually when I speak up or out or for something, it never ends well. And over time, I've learned not to say anything until the breaking point is forever sharp.
Facebook has helped me maintain a vocal stream during the course of the election and the last six months. Perhaps it's a passive aggressive way to float my ideas into the ether and hope no one calls me a cunt. One can hope. Yes, I, the privileged white person is having an issue, but I think that was my biggest issue: white men were incredibly surprised any sort of minority group had any sort of feelings about what was going to affect everyone. What do you mean gay people are scared of an administration whose half believes in gay conversion therapy? What do you mean immigrants are freaking out because of the anti-hispanic rhetoric running rampant from the whitest house?
But as I felt these issues arise, they became prominent in my life offline as well. The breaking point was sharp and everyone was going to know about it. My family, boyfriend, and close comedian cronies knew more about my struggles than what I showed online. It slowly started becoming too much. Despite my intentions and the strongest urge to make my points known, my ferocity began to back me into a dimly lit corner. I couldn't communicate the horrendous din of my fear accurately and often it came out angry instead of passive and docile and it ultimately left me alone and afraid.
The more aware I am of my defects, the more depressed about them I become. Instead of becoming willing to change, I fester in a web of pity and cat hair. I often times expect the other person to change when really I need to accept their irks and quirks. Upon realizing that I'm the person causing the turmoil, I get even more depressed and down on myself, one of my major defects, and the catastrophic cycle continues. It isn't fair to put others through the pain and misery of my psyche. I would be better off alone working on myself than trying to blame others for my mistakes. I've thrusted a lot of blame onto others, those who didn't deserve it. I have a tendency to push people away when I'm having a hard time because I'm so ashamed to have any feelings at all. I feel like I don't deserve to have them or that I'll be scolded if I do, which is why voicing strong opinions on Facebook immediately backfired into a welcome wagon of extreme sensitivity from Trump supporters, the mentally ill, the sober who aren't really sober.
If you want something destroyed, tell me that something is a good something: a job, a relationship, or an opportunity I may have passed up long ago, there is an undeniable fact I will destroy it. Maybe not with fire, but with great vengeance and furious anger...I feel like Lenny in Of Mice and Men where I'm too big and I don't know my own emotional strength until something gentle and innocent comes my way. Maybe I'm the smallest giant.
I don't know what to do going forward. I've tried to free myself of the inclement pain which has pulled at my heart for years. I'm still sober, so that's good. I discovered invaluable treatment for whatever it is I feel like I've been missing. I'm not alone, just lonely. Healing sucks and I need to get better at it. I'm going to three meetings this week. Stress acne is real. I will never buy crumpets and eat them all before they go bad. The sober show is in a little over a week. I have good things to look forward to, but I don't know what to actually do. I mean what the fuck do adults do? Surely I can't do those things. But I'll clearly get a start on it by being hard on myself.