Sober Voting

I’m sad.

I’m sad with a sinus infection, acquired exactly one week ago.

I hate it. The election actually made me sick.

Furthermore, the post-election news cycle practically begs me (us) to bitch. It also begs the question of who we’ve become (or regressed to) as a society. But I promise I won’t propose a solution, not on that. I’m not really the demographic of human whose voice needs to be heard right now.

I just want to admit something:

I have no idea what to do, what to say or how to act now that my first sober election has come to pass. After five years as a drunk/progressive political organizer, I voted–sober–for the first time on an actual election day (no absentee voting, no early voting). This is the first election year where I did not have to knock on doors or make phone calls to GOTMF (Get Out the Mother Fucking Vote). I thought I was home free in a swing state, no less!

Up until this point in my recovery, there was one sober behavior I prided myself on: the¬†ability¬†to admit how much I hated working in politics. The drink made me do it! I would have never gotten or stayed in the business if it weren’t for the booze! DC is Hollywood for Ugly People!

Except maybe I was wrong.

We are effectively–those of us who give a fuck–political organizers now. Or maybe, more accurately, agents of change. At least that’s what feels like the ethical way to be to reverse recent fuckery. At this point, I’ll be taking way more of my cues as a citizen of this country from Black Lives Matter, The Southern Poverty Law Center, the ACLU, Planned Parenthood and the Human Rights Campaign. Definitely not from angry white ladies who voted for echoes of the Third Reich.

Other than a deep sense of betrayal that I’m sure minorities in this country have felt since birth, I feel ashamed. To top that off, I haven’t felt more like drinking than when I watched the returns come in on November 9th, 2016.

I spent the hours prior to the close of polls waitressing for binge drinkers and stress eaters alike. I thought that by keeping busy and by being of service, I would avoid a nail-biter of a night. Yet from the beginning, I noticed that every one of my customers was in a shit mood (as reflected by their tips). And with that, I knew what was coming.

Hours later, I sat stunned. I felt sick¬†with¬†the irony that the retired politico and drunk in me got nostalgic for wine on Election Day–

A nausea brought on by the phenomenon of craving, not election results.

So there you have it.

Reality bites. Acceptance bites back.

My greatest work one week out from Election Day is equanimity. Love thy neighbor as thyself to keep it balanced? I’m not really an expert on this sort of thing. All I know is that addiction and recovery criss-cross giant swaths of the electorate that I would just as soon ignore and/or loathe if it weren’t for the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Peace and justice,

Lucy xo

 

 

Photo courtesy of PetaPixel

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Spiritual Feminism

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately–and not the OCD kind. I don’t know if my newfound spiritual curiosity has to do with the recent¬†articles I’ve read¬†or if this is my way of “branching out”¬†in the¬†Higher Power / God department.¬†I spend a lot of time with my mother, who is a die-hard Catholic, and that woman really loves her saints and her Christ.¬†Her¬†hardcore love for¬†her church family inspires me to think beyond my Catholic School Biases.¬†Her journalistic work on the Pope, including seeing him in Pennsylvania, has helped me keep an open mind. The Pope himself has readily become my ongoing¬†#MCM for months now. In short, I’m really feelin’ the Catholic Church. All of the Christ-like examples in my life are shining forth with unconditional love and service work.

I just got¬†off the phone¬†with my sponsor whose conversation resulted in both of us agreeing Jesus¬†was a¬†G. He threw tantrums in temples, he hung out with “women of the night,” he¬†defied physics¬†and he gave his 12 besties guidelines to be super nice to people who needed someone to be super¬†nice to them, even if they didn’t deserve it. Not to mention he converted water into wine. I don’t drink (now), but even as a person in recovery¬†I concede that¬†a miracle of that magnitude wouldn’t be the worst for people who enjoy pairing a fancy red with their steak.

Furthermore, I think Jesus was a feminist. He hung out with Mary Magdalene on the reg, who was purported to be one of the busiest “whores” around. He told judgmental people to step off, then she washed his feet with her hair. One image comes to my mind where Mary Magdalene is¬†holding an egg (that I interpret as her owning the eggs in her body like a feminist would). According to biblical folklore and/or fact, “Caesar laughed [at Mary M], saying, Christ rising from the dead was as likely as the egg in her hand turning red. But, before he could finish speaking, the egg had turned¬†bright red! The miracle of the egg turned many to Christ that day.” Men not listening to a woman who¬†is right?…hmm.

Lest we forget that Jesus’ teenage years and roaring 20s are conspicuously absent from the New Testament–I doubt very sincerely that this was an accident. Maybe Jesus went through rugged terrain finding himself during those years. Maybe his calling to be The Coolest Dude on Earth got figured out when he acted as people typically act¬†at those ages.

The articles I’ve read are vast in their subject matters, from Christianity to Planned Parenthood. The most recent ones that got me thinking are about Planned Parenthood. I know a few people who are pissy about the government’s hostile takeover of PP, as well they should be. The (white) men who are hellbent on legislating our sexual reproductive systems are a bit shortsighted in this matter. My guess is that many of these unfortunate-looking men got lucky a few more times than they’d care to admit–and by “lucky” I mean to “get some” after a night of tipping back whiskeys with the Good Ole Boys in DC taverns, cutting back-room deals to defund Planned Parenthood. My deductive reasoning leads me to believe many of the women these blowhards bedded were on birth control, have had mammograms and/or have had access to treatment they would not have otherwise had if it weren’t for PP. Seems like a double-standard to me.

I don’t know how Jesus would feel about any of this. But my understanding of the Beatitudes is that every person is equal under the eyes of God. My¬†understanding of the Constitution happens to coincide with Jesus’ words–that all PEOPLE are created equal. As a nation founded on equality and rigid Judeo-Christian “values,” I think something has gotten lost in translation. America may have been founded by gun-toting white people, but this country was built and sustained by women and black people. That’s just economics.

I seek to understand people, though I know this may never happen. The best I can do is find the God within myself and act accordingly. I am of the belief that Heaven, Hell and Purgatory are all euphemisms for Right Here Right Now. My version of God speaks to me through music, and that’s just me. I have Stevie Wonder’s song “As” on repeat as I write this. He seems to know a thing or two about godliness:

Did you know that true love asks for nothing
No no her acceptance is the way we pay
Did you know that life has given love a guarantee
To last through forever and another day

Blessed are the female badasses, for they shall love no matter what.