Last night took us back to a hospital hallway. ER this time. Before I continue: *Jasons fine* – an ultrasound and ekg later, we were probably experiencing a reaction to a drug change.
So that hallway. I actually spent most of yesterday writing out some big feels about “that other” hospital hallway, because watching the post-election response felt a lot like being there, where trauma can breed trauma. Where hearts are on the line and you can’t believe some of the things that people will say, like they’re missing the whole point.
Hospital hallways trigger me now. There are things I heard in them that I can’t unhear. Things like alarms and bells and monitors yes, but words too.
I think this election cycle is our country’s hospital hallway. Where alarms went off and fears were identified – some fears realized and others averted. And where words have been said that can’t be unheard.
And in moments we least expect, we might find ourselves back in another hallway, and our PTSD may trigger, and even if *everythings fine* that time, we might still shake and quake.
Healing is the long road. Can we amen it? I hope so. I choose so.
Amen to the long road, America.