As I rode the crosstown bus, I imagined my new psychiatrist would ask how I was feeling. I had seen her for the first time a week before, after months of feeling anxious and unhinged by the deaths of two friends over the summer, overcommitments at work, and a childcare situation that seemed unbearably complicated. When my 45 minutes was up, she suggested that I come back.
In the week between our appointments, Donald Trump had been elected President and everything had changed. It seemed like my frayed nerves had been projected outward and my personal problems would need to be recalibrated in proportion to the atmosphere of shared grief and despondency.
I hoped this new doctor could help me to make sense of the changed scale of my worries. When she asked, I told her I felt so devastated by the election that I was having trouble sorting out my own sadness from the collective despair of the city around me.
I had many reasons to be demoralized by the outcome of the election. My younger son is disabled, and I was appalled at a candidate who wrote a book called Crippled America, mocked Serge Kovaleski (an investigative reporter with disabilities), and proposed to slash funding for Medicaid. That, along with his lack of experience, opposition to reproductive rights, disrespect for women and minorities, promise to deport undocumented immigrants, build a wall at the southern border, and ban Muslims from entering the country.
My older son and I had canvassed in Pennsylvania, and I had taken him to vote with me, hoping we could witness together the historic election of the first woman president. We both cried while watching the results come in on Tuesday night. Wednesday was my birthday. After staying up much of the night, I stumbled through the day in a fog of exhaustion as I met with students, colleagues, and neighbors in tears.
In such a situation, how could I gage my own mental health?
The psychiatrist cut me off.
“Rachel, let me tell you something,” she waved her pad at me. “I voted for Trump.”
http://www.xojane.com/it-happened-to-me/my-therapist-voted-for-trump
lolololol
In the week between our appointments, Donald Trump had been elected President and everything had changed. It seemed like my frayed nerves had been projected outward and my personal problems would need to be recalibrated in proportion to the atmosphere of shared grief and despondency.
I hoped this new doctor could help me to make sense of the changed scale of my worries. When she asked, I told her I felt so devastated by the election that I was having trouble sorting out my own sadness from the collective despair of the city around me.
I had many reasons to be demoralized by the outcome of the election. My younger son is disabled, and I was appalled at a candidate who wrote a book called Crippled America, mocked Serge Kovaleski (an investigative reporter with disabilities), and proposed to slash funding for Medicaid. That, along with his lack of experience, opposition to reproductive rights, disrespect for women and minorities, promise to deport undocumented immigrants, build a wall at the southern border, and ban Muslims from entering the country.
My older son and I had canvassed in Pennsylvania, and I had taken him to vote with me, hoping we could witness together the historic election of the first woman president. We both cried while watching the results come in on Tuesday night. Wednesday was my birthday. After staying up much of the night, I stumbled through the day in a fog of exhaustion as I met with students, colleagues, and neighbors in tears.
In such a situation, how could I gage my own mental health?
The psychiatrist cut me off.
“Rachel, let me tell you something,” she waved her pad at me. “I voted for Trump.”
http://www.xojane.com/it-happened-to-me/my-therapist-voted-for-trump
lolololol
