Published January 19, 2025

Terrified doesn’t begin to cover how I feel today. Day 1 is tomorrow. My whole-body shaking is worse today than the morning after the election.

Fuck.

Regardless of how we got here, we’re here. I don’t know how I’m going to do another four years of this, with most of the guardrails that were in place last time now gone.

I’m still on leave. I’m still broken. I live under my blanket fort and mostly sleep.

At this house, we are flying the flag at half-staff.

I can’t believe we’re doing this again

Eight years ago, I was still dealing with the greatest shock of my life. I’d been working for a couple of years with my therapist toward coming out publicly as a transgender woman, and I’d been counting on doing it after a woman finally became our president.

By Inauguration Day 2017, I was still devastated, and had lost my nerve. I decided I couldn’t do it, couldn’t come out. Not with him as president.

I wrote that I wouldn’t be watching his inauguration, and I did the best I could. The result was one of the messier messes I’ve ever written.

The only thing I could think to do was to go see “Hidden Figures,” which I didn’t know much about, and leave a ticket for the person behind me to see it for free. I did that a couple of times, actually.

I didn’t want to see his face or hear his voice again, but I was working for a newspaper at the time, editing hard news, politics and opinion — everything except sports — so that was going to be impossible.

It was, of course.

After a month or so, I realized I couldn’t let his being president stop me from living as my authentic self, so later that year, I came out to the world.

Trans people weren’t one of his targets at the time. He’d even opposed the so-called “bathroom bill” in North Carolina while campaigning for office. But now Republicans need us to be their new devil after getting Roe v. Wade overturned. They have to keep donations coming in somehow.

Long, torturous story short, we’re doing this again, only worse. I still can’t believe it.

I feel myself cracking apart

Despite the love and concern I feel from friends and strangers, I’m a wreck. It took me so long to write this with shaking hands that I have to go back to bed now.

I don’t know what I’ll be doing when he’s sworn in, but I won’t be watching. I’ll probably be thinking about everyone who’s going to suffer, here and around the world, and who didn’t help bring this about.

I won’t waste a thought on people who voted for him twice. “We’re worried about you” rings hollow to me when it comes from people who consistently vote Republican, who vote for the people who have targeted people like me.

My future feels tenuous. I’m due to come off leave in a month and go back to work. I can’t imagine that happening right now. I’m still barely able to function, much less stay awake for eight consecutive hours. I’m still sleeping 12 to 16 hours a day.

Thank you, everyone who has reached out and helped and sent hugs. It means everything.

Take care of yourself. No one is coming to save us. We are all we have.

Sending love.

Photo of flag at half-mast by Marc Van Scyoc via Shutterstock.

♥

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