I recognize my election cycle.
The rush of excitement. Of hope. Of happiness. Of “maybe this is what I’ve been waiting for.”
The thrill of watching for the “….” of the incoming text results.
The creating future plans. The creating happy endings. The creating what life will be like. The creating the story before the characters are even developed.
And the anxiety. And the confusion. And the second guessing. And the fear. And the terrifying unknown. The wanting to know. The desire to know. The “how will I get through another day without knowing exactly what’s going on.”
And then, it all ceases to exist. Often without explanation. Often with the explanation I feared all along. Often feeling like my anxiety was to blame. Often kicking myself for the excitement. For the hope. For the happiness. For the future plans. For creating happy endings. For wanting something different.
Like before, it falls apart. Yet it’s all really much less dramatic because I was fairly whole throughout.
Again, I find comfort in “just me.” In my community. In my world I have created for “just me.” In knowing that “just me” is ok.
And that brings a sense of calm. Of peace. Of reflection.
Of happiness. Of hope. Of excitement.
And I cycle once more.