ABSTRACT
I am trying to hold the pieces together, trying to discover a narrative that will let me sleep, let me put my anxiety to rest. The 2016 election is over and the citizens of the United States have elected Donald Trump. I find myself reduced to fragments that chart my emotional landscape since the election results were reported. I want to make sense of it all, to believe that the damage to the United States and the world will be minimal, to know that the United States can withstand this assault on its values. I want to sleep again, but I don’t think I can.
I can’t sleep. As the election results roll in, it becomes clear that Hillary Rodham Clinton will lose the election. I sit there watching the TV, stunned, angry, fearful. Mostly though, I feel a growing agitation and despair collecting in the bottom of my stomach. I was sure this would be a good night for Demo - crats, sure that the American people could not possibly vote for a man like Trump, sure that the United States would be taking a step forward rather than a step backward. I tell myself there is nothing I can do tonight. Go to bed. You have to catch an early fight in the morning. I get in bed, but I can’t sleep. I keep wondering if there was some error, if the projections were wrong, if the Republicans or Russians tampered with the vote. I keep thinking of the millions of people, including those who voted for him, who will suffer if Trump’s inchoate and preposterous policies are enacted. I keep thinking of the millions
