Getting Back on the Horse

Election season is finally over.

For the past several months, I've been completely focused on campaigning for my sweetie. My energy and thoughts revolved around the election every waking moment -- and far too many of the sleeping ones as well. Our common refrain was, "November 8th...November 8th..." Shorthand for, "This will end and we'll get back to normal life soon..."

Well, November 8th has come and gone, and life is not what it was. The results didn't go our way, but at root, I don't think that's even relevant. Sure, we'd be thrilled if Emily had won instead of mourning the loss. But the changes are deeper for me, and the questions cause more vertigo.

When it comes to supporting Emily's dreams, why can I pack up and move my home of more than a decade, spend endless hours strategizing, walk precincts, make phone calls, rise and fall emotionally with every advance and setback, create campaign literature, hand out flyers on buses and trains, literally exhaust myself for months, and take on thousands of other tasks....but I can't seem to carve out an hour every week to do my own writing? Why can't I show myself a tenth of the commitment I've given her?

For the sake of the narrative drive here, I wish I could tell you. I'd love to wrap up this piece with a poignant conclusion of how I'm going to shift things finally, drawing together all the strands of my story with words of pathos and wit. Best of all, it would mean I had a plan.

But this story hasn't ended yet. Hell, I'm just starting to ask the right questions. So stayed tuned. I'm a sucker for finding out how cliffhangers turn out.