Posting a warning less than 10 days before the election—just to have it reach the tiny handful of folks who stumble across my blog—feels almost pointless. Honestly, it doesn’t matter how early I share it. Without the reach of someone like Joe Rogan, it’s hard to get anyone to notice. It’s a frustrating reality when you’re trying to help people see what’s at stake.
Ah, yes, sanity herself, lost. To everyone feeling that profound ache right now, as if the very ground beneath you has started to crack open—I get it, mate. I really do. It’s like the soul of this nation has taken a blow, and that despair, that whispered voice that says, “What’s the bloody point?”—it’s hard to shake off, isn’t it? Some of you, I know, stayed up far too late that night, eyes fixed on the screens as those state polls trickled in agonisingly past 2:00 AM EST. The anxiety built with each passing minute, twisting in your gut like a blade. And then, that moment came—more than 270. The air left the room. It was like the bottom just dropped out, leaving you in free fall.
The next day? I know many of you woke up sick to the core, struggling just to get out of bed. I saw it in my co-workers who called it quits that Wednesday—not because they were lazy, but because they needed to take a moment to process it all, to catch their breath. Honestly, I think most of them could’ve done with a hug, something solid to ground them amidst the chaos.
But here’s the thing: despite what it looks like, despite the lies, the anger, and the madness dressed up as power, democracy isn’t some fragile thing that shatters at the whim of one man’s ambition. It’s stronger than that. It’s woven into every small, stubborn act of hope where people still choose empathy over hate, truth over deceit. Not only that, but it’s the quiet resolve of communities standing shoulder to shoulder, the relentless push for justice by those who refuse to be silenced. So, if you’re feeling like this story’s been written for us, like we’ve lost our grip on democracy, remember this: the darkness only wins if we forget there’s light. And I know, deep down, that there are enough of us who still believe, who remember what’s worth fighting for.
Don’t despair, move on.
Here’s the thing: as a federal employee, there’s a certain duty that comes with the role. It’s not about blind allegiance to whoever happens to be at the top; it’s about supporting the government, the institutions that keep this country ticking along, even when the figurehead is someone you might find utterly disagreeable. Now, let’s be clear—supporting the government doesn’t mean rolling over and complying with every misguided directive that comes down the pipeline. No, mate, it’s about doing the job that serves the people, supporting what is good and just, and drawing a hard line when it comes to resisting the darkness that might try to seep in.
So, we move on. But moving on doesn’t mean surrendering our principles or turning a blind eye. It means we strive for peace in our daily lives, we look out for one another, and we find joy in the simple moments, even when the bigger picture feels bleak. It’s about recognising that, yes, the world can be a bloody mess, but we still have the power to be a light in our own small corners. Resist what’s wrong, champion what’s right, and don’t let the weight of it all crush your spirit. Because, at the end of the day, we have to keep living—truly living—not just existing in this madness. So take that walk, hug the people you love, and remember that every act of kindness, no matter how small, is a step toward a better world.