The following is cross-posted from my Facebook page, where I've been sharing my thoughts on the 2016 election and its results. I turned off the comments on my blog a couple of years ago because this is primarily a safe outlet wherein I share my personal views, in-depth thoughts, and difficult experiences; however, I welcome differing opinions and respectful conversations across my other social media platforms. What I won't ever tolerate is disrespect, bullying, or name-calling. And on the subject of politics especially, I don't appreciate snark because that's another form of mockery, and mockery is not OK. 

I don't care what side you were on in this election--you had your reason for voting as you did, and I respect that. What I do care about is the negativity that was nurtured during the campaign and the hatred that's transpiring by those emboldened by the words of this man. It's not everyone, I know, but it's enough. And I've had enough. I pray that on this, at least, we can come together and make this a safe and better world for everyone in it.

Everyone.

I'm not ashamed to say I cried myself to sleep last night. It has nothing to do with the fact that the candidate I voted for lost, nothing to do with the fact that we won't have a female president--those were two realities I could bear.

But knowing that hate won the highest office in our land, that the fear he has spread has been given that much more power, makes one feel defeated.

I'm terrified for my friends and family who were the subject of his ridicule, who may be the target of unknown repercussions from this decision: people who only want to love each other regardless of their orientation, people who want to feel safe regardless of their gender, people who want to pray no matter their religion, people who want to feel valued in their country--THEIR COUNTRY--no matter the color of their skin. People who look different, act different. People who are barely scraping by financially. People who are disabled or otherwise unwell. I'm terrified for our freedoms, for our safety, for our well-being--yes, even my own.

We are all vulnerable now--every single one of us. We've had to look inward and realize that the fragile lie of "them, not me" doesn't hold up anymore.

"Yes, you too."

Yes, you and you and even you.

No more sticking our heads in the sand. No more looking the other way. No more cowering in the corner waiting for the darkness to envelope someone else. You are a source of light in this world--it's time to stand together in love and dispel the shadows of hate.

Last night, as I tossed and turned in fitful sleep, I had a dream about a friend who recently passed away, a friend I think about often. I cried to her, told her I was missing her, begged her for some kind of peace of mind.

"I'm OK," she said. "You will be, too."

We will be, too.