I Can’t Spin This Anymore

My beloved offspring tends to catastrophize. 

We typically talk daily; since early 2024, some days, they’ve called me five times or more in a panic about the Presidential election. Around the time of the Primaries, we agreed not to discuss politics. They needed to focus on other, healthier, topics.

But on Election Day, they walked from work to an ER amidst a full-on suicidal panic attack. 

I had run out of new ways to spin the State of the Nation. I explained that people wouldn’t run into the streets rioting and firing AK-47s if Trump got elected – we have a Constitution and three branches of government to check and balance. And if things got totally crazy, generals might stand up to tyranny or insanity.

At any rate, our government was designed so that no person could take over, and a coup was very unlikely.

I can’t spin this anymore.

For years my most important role has been to convince this young person that life is worth living. I’m grateful that this week there’s been no mention of politics from them. I think immersion in a creative project has spared them so far. But I don’t know how much longer that will last.

My greatest hope is that they’re not secretly planning an “escape.”

I know there’s a big-out bag under a certain bed. And there’s a passport. But I can’t – physically – go with them. And have explained over and over that if they leave, I may never see them again. That gave them pause to consider.

I understand their frustration, but I can’t see myself bugging out or “checking out.” This is our freakin’ karma ripening, folks, and if we run from it, it’ll just bite us later.

But I can no longer pretend. If I try to spin this with them now, I’d be lying.

So I see it’s time to stand.