Thank God.

We did it. We fucking did it.

All day I have been vacillating between joy and relief and tears. I had always hoped we would win, that we would fight back and reclaim our country and our future. But truth be told, I think this year had me so beat down I struggled to keep that optimism.

It’s been the darkest this world has ever felt—a community still mourning George Floyd and grappling with an uprising that rocked our city, a raging pandemic that claimed over 240,000 American lives, the continued murder of Black people at the hands of the police across the country, vital and beloved businesses closing left right and center, the loss of Ruth Bader Ginsburg and the swearing in of a Justice who is an insult to the bench, super-spreader rallies around the country stoking fear and hatred and COVID, fires raging on the West Coast, Trump and half the White House getting COVID, GOP campaign events held in the People’s House, folks protesting masks and Governors refusing to control the virus, domestic terrorists plotting to kidnap the Governor of Michigan, a coordinated GOP attempt to restrict the vote in states across the country, constant disinformation and misinformation about anything and everything, overhauls that damaged the United States Postal Service, millions of people knowingly voting for a monster...It has been a YEAR.

All of this on top of our own social and physical isolation, economic stress, working from home, distance learning, grief, and loneliness. All of THAT on top of over four years of a trauma at the hands of our own Federal government. It was like, logically I understood hope but I had forgotten how to feel it. Hope was replaced by chance and we were betting the house.

But today our fever broke—this hellscape that had been normalized was cracked open and we saw light for the first time in what feels like eons.

———

This has been the longest yet shortest week of my life, and the MSNBC anchors are my new family. (I already miss watching my roomie, Steve Kornacki at the big board.) Like the rest of America, I had coverage streaming all day while I pretended to work and instead fretted about the future of our democracy. I watched every evening as 7,000 votes here and 650 votes there slowly added up. I learned way too much about Maricopa County and electoral pathways to 270. I scrolled TikTok for hours on end to try and numb the anxiety of the unknown. I hardly slept because who knew when the next batch of votes would change the total, when they might be able to call a state, when all of a sudden something might reverse everything we thought to be true. It was me and the rest of the country, nerves fried as pundits zoomed in on yet another swing state map.

It’s ridiculous that our Presidential election is determined by a handful of people in a handful of counties in a handful of states. I should never have to lose my mind when Florida’s votes are counted or have my anxiety spiral when Texas can’t quite make it to blue. At one point I found myself falling asleep to the sounds of political analysis only to have Wisconsin called for Biden two hours later, restoring some semblance of equilibrium in my brain. But let’s be real—suburban Milwaukee should not have that much control over my wellbeing.

———

I was brushing my teeth when they announced Pennsylvania was called. 10 seconds later I was standing in my living room with Biden’s win flashing on the screen in front of me, completely stunned, crying with toothpaste on the side of my mouth.

All morning I pumped music out the window onto Franklin and cheered the strange man who was sprinting up and down the street with a Biden lawn sign and a giant American flag. Cars drove around covered in Biden signs to a chorus of honks and cheers as they passed. A small moped gang turned onto Lyndale—a tiny Biden parade.

I went to get a celebratory latte and couldn’t help but notice there was a miraculous change in the world. It was as if layers of grime had been wiped away and we were seeing the world for the first time. We may have been wearing masks but our bodies screamed, “Freedom!”

This afternoon I read reactions tweeted from around the world, called my people, and digested just how momentous this was with my new MSNBC family. No parties in the streets in my neighborhood, no banging pots from balconies, but you could feel the collective exhale ripple through the air. I think I always envisioned a Biden win as some huge emotional and physical release—and it is. But rather than a geyser, this is more like the slow release of a pressure valve. It feels like my whole body is depressurizing so I can adapt and still breathe in this new environment. I dance, I cheer, I cry, repeat.

This evening, I watched Biden and Harris speak to a parking lot of decorated cars—people sitting on the hoods of their SUVs and waving flags out of their moon roofs. There were definitely more than a few ladies wearing bedazzled American flag masks.

Hearing Kamala speak about being the woman that little girls will look to as an example of what’s possible—it broke me. It was a realization that I had needed that as a child, that millions of little girls for generations had needed that but were denied. For a Black woman to stand on that stage and be declared the Vice President Elect, it meant the world had finally shifted. Now when a daughter tells her dad that she wants to be president, he won’t tell her that’s not going to happen. No one will ever say that again.

When Biden spoke, it was like aloe on a terrible burn. It’s amazing what leadership does for the soul. Having someone validate the emotional toll of the last four years and remind us that none of this has been normal was like having a weight lifted from our chests. Americans of conscience don’t have to do this alone anymore. We the lucky ones who survived Trump’s reign of terror, we will finally have a leader who understands our country needs to not only rebuild but also grieve.

I have a lot of complicated feelings about unity and reconciliation, and about Biden and his policies, but honestly, that’s for another day. Today is about learning to breathe again, being welcomed back by the world, feeling the security of truth and empathy from the highest office in the land. We’ve been left to our own devices for too long—a Lord of the Flies national experiment. And this year, the hardest of our lives, we’ve been without stability, compassion, or clarity. It’s as if our country was being pulled apart inside a tornado for four years and today the house was finally set down on the ground. We’re battered but not broken.

———

Trump was always a small man but he left a huge footprint with his oversized influence. Yet for the past few days, he has slowly receded into the background and now feels like an after thought. We’ve already moved on and we’re planning the future without him. He brought out our worst demons, and I suppose in some ways we should thank him for that. After all, now we know what needs to be fixed, now we can move forward with clear eyes and steady hands. And we can all finally get some rest.