I’m worried about this friend and that friend — the ones who care so deeply, who are so very angry right now.
Who post every day on Facebook about Donald Trump.
About him personally. About his policies-to-be.
About the important positions he wants to fill with people who appear to be the worst possible choices.
About the latest bone-headed Tweet he has sent blasting out into the world.
I’m worried because this anger, in my estimation, isn’t sustainable. Isn’t healthy.
I’m worried about the toll the next four years will take on my dear friends.
Let me be clear: I’m not a Trump fan. I don’t see what his supporters see. I’m doing my best to give the guy a chance, to have an open mind, to trust that love really does trump hate.
But like my friends, I’m angry. And fearful. And terrified. And sad.
I love that this is a peaceful demonstration and not a protest. That we’re not “against” something but “for” something.
I’m marching because it’s something to “do” at a time when I don’t know what to do.
But I am clear on what I can’t do: I can’t be angry every day. I can’t respond to everything that Trump says or does that I disagree with.
That doesn’t mean I plan to be silent, that I’m going to put my head in the sand or look the other way.
But there has to be a happy medium. I hope I find it. I hope we all find it.
I don’t want Trump to get the best of me or the best of my friends.
He can’t win that, too.