Election Grief: A Professional's View
We tap into a pair of mental health professionals for our final entry in the Election Grief series.
NOTE FROM JARED: I have a quick four-question, anonymous, confidential, mostly multiple-choice survey that will help me with planning future editions of Dirt Nap. Your opinion would be most valued.
FROM JARED: Thank you for joining us on our ride through Election Gief and the stories of emotional reactions to the 2024 Presidential Election. I want to thank our contributors for being vulnerable and sharing their stories with us. I also want to thank those of you who did not experience the same emotions; maybe you’re politically agnostic or voted for Trump or see this as an overreaction. I appreciate that you let things be and resisted any urge you may have felt to comment or confront.
And, as was the case all Election Grief editions, no actual Kornackis were harmed during production of these entries.
Monday is the inauguration, an anticlimactic finish line of sorts of any presidential campaign. You spend months glad-handing and speaking to crowds, spending billions on advertising, and grinding yourself down all to stand outside and give a speech.
The inauguration is also the manifestation of the post-election grief felt by thousands of people. We’ve covered all of the reasons over the past couple of months. As we close the book on this topic, I wanted some of the mental health professionals I’ve spoken with over the past year offer some advice about how to process these feelings and move forward. These practitioners serve patients and clients feeling these emotions while also grappling with their own.
Barbie Atkinson, LPC-S
It has been a hot topic in therapy this week. The gist of what I might say to someone is:
What you’re experiencing is a profound sense of loss that goes beyond the outcome of an election. It’s a grief that touches on your core values, your vision for the future, and perhaps even your sense of identity within your community and nation.
In the short term, this grief can feel overwhelming, like a sudden rupture in your understanding of the world around you. It’s important to acknowledge these feelings without judgment. Allow yourself to mourn what you perceive as lost — whether it’s hope, a sense of progress, or a particular vision for society.
In the long term, this experience might challenge your fundamental beliefs about democracy, social progress, or human nature. It's natural to feel disillusioned or even betrayed. However, it’s crucial to remember that societal change is rarely linear. History shows us that progress often comes in waves, with setbacks and advances.
This moment invites you to reflect deeply on your values and how you want to embody them, regardless of the political climate. It's an opportunity to connect more authentically with others who share your concerns and to find new ways to engage with your community and the broader society.
Remember, resilience doesn't mean you don’t feel the pain; it means you find ways to move forward while honoring your emotions. How can you channel this grief into meaningful action or personal growth? How might this experience deepen your understanding of others, even those with whom you disagree?
In times of political turmoil, it’s more important than ever to nurture our close relationships and to find purpose in our daily lives. These connections and sense of meaning can provide a stable foundation as we navigate uncertain times.
Barbi Atkinson is a licensed professional counselor in the state of Texas and operates a counseling practice in Houston. She previously appeared in our edition on grieving the loss of a friendship.
Scott Janssen
Every therapist I know is very tuned into the vortex of grief and distress that is now spinning in the wake of the election.
In fact, The National Association of Social Workers recently held a conference call to discuss helping clients struggling with “post-election stress.” That’s an unusual move and suggests this is a big issue on their radar. They also sent members an online resource called a “Coping with Election Stress Toolkit” filled with resources we can use to support clients, and ourselves. Here’s a link for one of the articles in the toolkit that offers “expert advice for coping with election stress.” And here’s another one with a list of coping tips.
I’ve never seen this intensity and complexity of grief after an election. It’s not just disappointment that a candidate lost, it’s grief combined with a deep, almost existential and moral pain. To understand what’s going on, we need to consider the unprecedented context. This is not a political statement, it’s an assessment of the facts to illuminate why this grief is as much about Donald Trump winning as it is about Kamala Harris losing. It’s as much about what just happened as it is about what lies ahead.
The grief I’m seeing is multilayered. Various losses entangle – loss of the future we envisioned and many expected. Loss of trust in our fellow citizens who voted for Trump seemingly without regard to our democracy or values like respect for diversity, fairness, nonviolence, and the wellbeing of our most vulnerable citizens. Loss of a story we were telling ourselves about who we are as a country and where we are going. Those stories are gone.
I’ve talked with people who have expressed embarrassment or shame at being American. Several described it as “feeling dirty.” So, there’s grief at a perceived loss of America’s moral standing in the world, of no longer being seen as a humane and responsible world leader.
There’s grief over the loss of a sense of safety, the threat that Trump signifies for citizens of color, those in the LGBTQ community, women, progressives like me who he says are the “enemy within”. A loss of safety that goes with no longer believing our leaders can be relied on to prioritize basic commitments to our safety and wellbeing.
Many are grieving what they see as a renunciation of our commitment to democracy itself. For context, many of us have been seeing this loss of commitment for years. The Supreme Court, for example, gutting of the Voting Rights Act, voter suppression and intimidation, gerrymandering, voter ID laws intended to create barriers to voting, lies about stolen elections undermining trust in our institutions. And don’t forget an anti-democratic electoral college which makes the popular vote meaningless. So, this election comes in that larger context and signals to many who are grieving that the loss of protections for democracy, or the loss of democracy itself, is accelerating.
It’s not just Democrats who are grieving. Many are lifelong Republicans who voted for Harris and are aghast that their party has been hijacked by a man who General Kelley explicitly warned is the dictionary definition of a “fascist.” Folks in the mold of Bob Dole, Ronald Reagan, John McCain. Many are grappling with grief at the loss of a party that they once believed had integrity, moral conviction, and a willingness to work together for the common good, but no longer does.
Grief for the loss of common ground on which to come together without all the shouting and lies. Sadness and despair that we are so divided. That truth no longer seems to matter.
Maybe you hear my anger? If so, under anger is fear for the people I foresee will be hurt and the loss of regard for basic kindness; under the fear is sadness and a sense of hopelessness that the divisions are becoming so calcified that some are calling for violence. Under hopelessness is grief for a world I remember in which I had conservative friends whose perspective and leaders I trusted. Now we’ve turned politics into a win at all costs bloodsport where we call the other side an enemy within.
It’s grief for loss upon loss upon loss.
What about the grief of parents who worry about the world in which their kids are growing up? Who want action on gun violence and climate protection and women’s health who grieve that these important priorities have suddenly been shunted aside. In fact, they will be under further assault.
For readers who think they are losing it, or who are doing a number on themselves – “What’s wrong with me, why can’t I stop crying, why can’t I concentrate?” – the last nine years have been an emotional vortex. Be gentle with yourself. You’re not going nuts. You’re hurting because you care. Caring is a strength. We are in this together.
Scott Janssen is a social worker based in North Carolina. He contributed to our feature on men and grief (parts one and two) and dying angry.
Final Thoughts on Finality
“Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan.”
— John F. Kennedy
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