This is week 28 of my 52 Letters project. I have a letter written, ready to share with you tonight. But I just can't do it. Instead, I am writing this letter. Instead of carefully chosen phrases, I'm sharing the whole letter, because it is written to you--who voted, who believed, and who lost.

I spent my entire day paralyzed. I haven't slept in over 40 hours. I haven't eaten a bite today. I have subsisted on water. I have cried countless times, and sought comfort in conversations with loved ones. If any of you know me--you know that is not like me at all.

But today is unlike any other. I feel lost and afraid. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be proud that my country voted against hate, against racism, against rape culture, against homophobia. Love was supposed to beat all of these things.

But it didn't.

I want so badly to be a child again, sitting on my mother's lap while she lets me cry, and tells me it's going to be okay. But she's gone.

I want someone to have an answer for this horrible, crippling pain. I want someone to tell me what I can do. But there are no answers. People have said don't give into the fear, and I am trying so VERY hard not to. But this hurt is too fresh--too raw for me to feel rational. And that's what I feel.

I feel so hurt by this. As a woman and a minority, I feel like half of this nation sees me as less equal, less human, less valid. I feel that these people want to keep me in my place--silent, complacent, and in the margins. This may not be the truth or reality of the situation--but it's how I FEEL.

I feel so hurt and betrayed by loved ones who wanted this awful thing to happen. I'm afraid to see them, afraid my pain will show. I have always been able to get on with loved ones who shared different beliefs. But how can I go forward when I feel so HURT? I'm trying to figure that out. I don't want to make this painful situation worse--I don't WANT to feel betrayed, but right now...I do.

All of these feelings have been churning in my gut all day, curdling my stomach. So, at 3:30 this afternoon, I finally dragged my broken self into my studio. All I can do that will give me relief and some semblance of control, is create. I worked on this image, and I sat down to write this letter.

To all of you who are just as hurt and afraid as I am. All I can say at this point is THANK YOU for fighting, THANK YOU for trying, THANK YOU for your support. To those who consoled me, who shared my horror...on the phone, in texts, on social media--THANK YOU ALL.

We need to keep talking to each other. No arguing, no hateful words--just talking through it. Maybe there will be an answer in all the dialogue. Maybe we can find a way to feel safe. Because I don't feel safe right now. I fear for women, minorities, my LBGTQ friends, for all of those who dare to speak their mind. Thank you for talking, for fighting with grace and dignity.

I have no idea what will happen now; I don't think anyone really does. But please know you are appreciated. You have kept me sane today, and I am so very grateful to all of you; the friends I know and those I don't. We are not alone. That is all I know.

I am sending love and light and trying to understand and move forward.

Please keep talking...we can't be silenced.

Love,

Jess

#52Letters