7 Days of Grieving - 2

November 7, Thursday

I wake up at 6 am with the heavy heart and realization that I'm not in a dream and Trump really won. I literally cannot catch my breath. I read a supportive message from my friend in New Zealand who I was venting to as the ballot count was unfolding. I quickly respond to her, but I'm still out of breath. The nightmare of another 4 years of him! In moments like that, I reach out to my ultimate example of female strength, endurance and loyalty.

My friend Olena [name changed] is Ukrainian, the wife of my European University classmate from 30 years ago. He's been fighting for Ukraine on the front lines from the beginning of the war in February 2022. Their first-born son, a talented violinist who'd won many international youth competitions, is fighting in the war as well. Their youngest son had to finish high school in Poland. He is not of the fighting age yet.

Olena herself is an accomplished TV journalist and documentarian in Kyiv who travels a lot and documents the plight of Ukrainians in war, especially vulnerable people who cannot defend themselves such as the elderly in psychiatric facilities and children who were orphaned by the war. We communicate often, I try to reach out to support her as much as I can. Today, I need her support, so I contact her as I see her FB green light on.

"Olena, hi. How are you? Ukraine will most probably suffer even harder times, even though how else can it be worse, right? America has failed miserably and I'm crushed and depressed. Where and how do you find hope? I'm asking the woman who is living in an unending nightmare for almost three years now, both physically and in fear for the men she loves. How do you cope with all of this, dear?"

She responds right away, "Hi, dear Lana. You might be surprised, but I wasn't terribly shocked by the results of the American election. I believe neither option would have been good for Ukraine and we must rely more on ourselves. And perhaps some Black Swan. Just joking."

My dear friend has strength to make a joke. That puts my own feelings into a different perspective. "You are so strong. I'm here in a complete stupor for the second day. I know some of my colleagues and students voted for him. Don't know how to look them in the eye."

"I understand completely," Olena replies. "I had the same feeling in 2004 when Yanukovich was elected, and even earlier, in 1999 with Kuchma. I remember how we were sitting with V [her husband, my friend] in the kitchen, venting. It seemed so bad then, no light at the end of the tunnel. And here we are, where it is so much much worse."

Again, putting things into perspective for me.

“How are you?" I'm getting a message from another friend and colleague from my home country who became like a younger sister to me. In 2016, she won a green card lottery, settled in Philadelphia and became a citizen a couple of years ago. This was her first US election to vote in, and she volunteered to count the votes in Bucks Co. I was so proud of her, and was curious about her experiences.

"Crushed, dazed and confused," I respond. I'm now into two chat sessions at the same time, and I do need to get to work too.

With Olena, we discuss the hopes for American democracy, Orban's model of "illeberal democracy" and how Trump wants to replicate it through Project 2025. With my Philly sis, we talk about the counting procedure. "I was excited about being on the other side of the voting process," she writes, "but something felt fishy. It's like a lot of votes for her were lost somehow."

"Are you feeling any better?" another friend from my home country checks in. She is on a Fulbright scholarship in Florida and was fascinated with the entire election process and tally of the results. She stayed pretty much all night on the election night and we exchanged doomsday messages.

"No, not yet, but I will try to get there," I respond and wrap up all my chats. Time to get to work. Takes me half an hour to get ready and I decided to walk to campus. It’s about 35-45 minutes and on the way I call my friend in Atlanta with whom we raised kids together at the Russian school. She helps me out with my taxes and I had a question that we solved quickly.

The election conversation is inevitable. We vent and then I jokingly tell her that she should convince her husband to run for the US House seat from Georgia. He is a traditional conservative who hates Trump. He has a great calm personality and military experience. We mull on the idea and surprisingly, my friend got enthusiastic about it. After we got off the phone, she talked with her husband and he was enthusiastic about it as well. So if in two years a particular unsavory character in the US Congress from Georgia gets unseated you can all thank me for that.

I get to work, do a prep for my class even though it’s a lecture I can deliver with my eyes closed, and go to a guest lecture by a sports psychologist. The hall is packed with our students, and the lecture on motivation, endurance, and perseverance in sports is great. But… I look at the guy and can’t stop thinking, “Did you vote for Trump?” Then I tell myself I cannot go on like this, need to come to peace with the fact that he may have and I have to live with this. People always have their reasons.

I teach my 1 pm class almost on autopilot and after it ends, follow up with a student who cried the day before in my morning class. I assure her she can always come and talk to me, whenever she needs. She said she’d stop by some time.

Between the class and the general faculty meeting, I do some grading and emailing. The faculty meeting ends at 5:30 pm and I’m back to grading and prepping. In between, a queer student stops by and confides their fears about personal safety and what the looming elimination of the Department of Education might mean for their funding. I assure them that it will be safe because of the slow workings of the bureaucracy and because student loans are a cash cow. We vent about the election again and I try to be as reassuring as possible. It’s hard.

I work more and start writing this story. I get carried away and forget that I walked to work. Forget to eat, too, but have some snacks in the office. Before I realize it, it’s 9 pm and pitch black outside. Luckily, a colleague who teaches an evening class offers me a ride. He is a friend and ally. In the car, we exchange impressions of the first two days after the election. Comrades in misery.

I get home and go out for my evening walk. While walking, I call my Philly sis. We catch up and vent again. I feel a little better. The reality is settling in, some plans come to focus.

One thing I have decided today is I will not read or listen to any self-blame and self- and other-victimization of Democrats. Harris ran an inspiring, well-organized and focused campaign. We should be looking into not why she lost but into why the hell he won.

It’s just a little after midnight and I’m done with this rant. Today will be another day and I have four classes in the morning. Good night to all.