Still scarred

I want to be hopeful about tomorrow. I do, I really do. And deep down, I think I might be. But, there's one problem. I'm still not over 2000. I still don't believe it happened. Part of the problem is that I was there. I was working at HQ when we lost. I cried sad tears. I called my dad. It was the worst ending of a movie ever. I was standing in the rain waiting - and then my phone rang (all of our phones rang) - when we unlost. I cried happy tears. I was in DC pushing send on the email to tell the world that, even though we won, we were giving up. I knew it would take me a while to get over it. My next job at a major cable news channel where we used the other side of the still-marked-up electoral map as a white board did not help. Fahreinheit 911, during which I was the only one crying when they showed campaign rally scenes, did not help. Leaving my career in politics behind did not help. Perhaps you can't ever truly leave. When I say I have PTSD, others laugh but I am only half-kidding, or maybe I'm not kidding at all. I know it was eight years ago, that I was just a kid and now I'm a mom, but other people's confidence scares me. I want to tell them not to get too excited, but I don't. I want to tell them that they never can know what will happen, but I don't. People think I'm not excited or enthusiastic enough. Some might even think that I don't care. I care so much that I can't even talk about it. Please let Doris Kearns Goodwin (and all those other people who aren't afraid that saying something will make it not come true) be right. She's a smart, smart person, and as insightful as they come. Maybe if she is right, I'll get over it. And, if she's not, I really don't know what I'll do after I'm done crying. Maybe I'll go here for a while.