This week has been nothing short of heartbreaking. I went to bed Monday night with an excitement I haven’t felt since I believed in Santa Clause. Honestly- I didn’t know if I COULD go to sleep.

“This is the last night I am going to sleep in a world where a female has never been President” I told myself as I drifted off to sleepy town with (undoubtedly) a smile on my face.

Tuesday morning I woke up PUMPED! I posted a meme where a lady has her hands in the air and the quote says “hallelujah! This is the final day of the election”. (Something to that affect). I was elated that THE day had finally arrived. I listened to “Fight Song” about 8 times and danced around my house. Literally danced. Elizabeth Banks posted a rendition of “Fight Song” that was acapella and was performed by HRC supporters. I could NOT have been more pumped. I felt pumped! I felt energized! I felt proud!

But we had a small problem… I had class at 6pm nearly an hour away. I had emailed and called my professor to protest holding class during such a monumental moment in our nation. We were about to shake up history and I didn’t want to miss a moment of it. Sure I knew it was going to be a “grand slam” win, but I didn’t want to miss a moment of blue being splattered over my tv screen. I never heard back from my professor so against my better judgement, I headed to class. When I was less than 10 minutes away, my buddy from class called to say she had sent us home to watch the election! Woot woot! Turned around, called the hubs to give him the good news, and began jamming! There it was again… “Brave” and “Fight Song” kept me going on the drive home. Tears were in my eyes and I began to (once again) try to soak in what HRC winning would mean to ME.

I came home, grabbed a slice of pizza and headed upstairs. To the best of my memory I remember seeing HRC at 90 votes and Trump at 30. Here we go! She was in it to win it and it was about to happen. In less than an hour I had already moved downstairs. I sat in the quiet and began to cry. I couldn’t fathom what was happening. How were reporters already talking about predictions of Trump to win states that are ALWAYS blue??

At 9:34 I gave up. I lost hope. I walked out into the garage and began too remove the “Women Can Stop Trump” sticker off my car. At 10:13 I got a text from my sister that contained a photo of her smiling from ear to ear with the caption “I love you BUT…” on it. (I love my sister. That’s how we roll. I would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed.  I’m not mad at her). I managed to stay awake til nearly 1:00 and I laid there and cried. I began to vent to my husband and bawl like a baby. He held me and heard me. While he didn’t vote for Trump, he also didn’t vote for HRC. BUT– this didn’t matter. He wanted to be there for ME.

I woke up several times throughout the night only to cry again. It wasn’t a dream. This was happening.

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As dawn broke on Wednesday morning… so did my heart. I began to weep and feel things inside of me I have never felt before. I was heartbroken, devastated, angry, confused… it is still too fresh for me to describe accurately how I felt. I watched a bit more of the news and cried while I ate my oatmeal. My husband had to leave town and held me one last time. He left, I cried, and my phone began to blow up. (That’s another post yet to come).

I sat in silence as I waited for her speech. I cried when she walked out and smiled while she held back tears. Her words were so poised and eloquent… and above all, heartfelt. My heart broke for me, for her, for her many supporters (according to popular vote there were more HRC fans than Trump fans). My heart was shattered for what this meant for women, for minorities, for members of the LGBTQ community, and many others.

My heart is broken over this devastating loss. And for me (and many others) that’s exactly what it is!… a devastating loss. We will recover. We will move forward. I will support Trump through prayer. I will give him a chance. And I will continue to chip away at the “glass ceiling”.

A broken hearted Hillary supporter,

Roxy

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