I’m going through the five stages of grief over the election — and that’s OK

Election Day — Tuesday, Nov. 5 — was arguably one of the most anxiety-inducing days I’ve experienced in a long, long time. 

From waking up in the morning with a feeling of impending doom before most voters in the U.S. even cracked open their eyelids, to literally having to force myself to breathe throughout the entire day, I knew I needed to afford myself some grace. 

I went to yoga to force myself to breathe, took a long shower, dived into the most optimistic part of my brain and talked to my mom for an hour as newscasters spewed red state after red state victories for former President Donald Trump. 

“Is Trump about to be our president again?” read a text from my little sister, Casey, to our family group chat. 

“No, no, it’s not at all projected yet. The red states come first and then the blue will swoop in,” I responded.

As time passed, she called me over-optimistic. Was I? Was I wrong to think a woman could win the race and save our country? Was I wrong to think that it was common sense to scratch the bubble for Harris-Walz with confidence? 

I forfeited to sleep around 1:15 a.m., still with a slice of optimism intact. Trump had already taken Georgia and had secured 230 electoral votes. But it would be OK, I told myself. We wouldn’t know the results for days. 

In the past few days, my friends and I have wondered where we’ll be when we find out Vice President Harris won. Yes, you heard that right. Maybe it was an attempt to convince ourselves, maybe it was the first stage of grief, early onset “denial.” 

I didn’t think I’d be in a dark room, alone, at 6:07 a.m. when I found out that the winner of our presidential race was Donald Trump. 

At first, I held my breath. Then I forced myself to breathe. Then, I put my phone down, thinking sleep would fix this bad dream. Now, at 6:28 a.m., I’m finding myself slamming my phone keyboard in a Google document writing this. 

So yes, I am going through five stages of grief right now. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. 

I think the denial stage came and went. Entangled with denial was fear. I’m not quite angry — the second stage of grief — as I write this. I’m sad, and I’m terrified. I’m disappointed. I’m confused. How could this happen? 

The third stage of grief is bargaining. But I can’t bargain with a president who will not protect my rights as a woman, the rights of my counterparts who are a part of marginalized communities, the rights of my friends whose parents are immigrants, the rights of my friends who identify with the LGBTQ+ community and the rights of my friends who live in states in which abortions are impossible to obtain. 

All we need to remember right now is that it’s OK to feel like we’re lost in a maze of political tension and polarization the Trump era has ushered in. I’m certainly lost, and that’s almost more comforting right now than knowing my place. 

To avoid sounding like a broken record, I’m not going to tell you that you need to post all over your social media, that you need to immediately take action or that you need to shout from the rooftops. This comes later; our work isn’t over. 

But right now, focus on your mental health. Right now, give yourself some grace. The five stages of grief are OK to feel because what we’ve just experienced is, without a doubt, a great loss.

The 988 Lifeline, the Trevor Project, and the local Barnes Center all offer hotlines and resources to help in this time.