Self-Care After the Election
Practicing self-care and being guided by empathy and compassion for people's very real fear and suffering
I originally posted this on another publication called “New Theology of Self-Care,” but decided to pull it over here as a consolidation of publications. Over time, I will be reposting articles that were posted there for consumption and integration here on On A Long Run. I will be posting these articles on Monday’s so as not to disrupt my normal Wednesday posts. ENJOY!!!
This post is from the week after the presidential election, this last November 2024. I have not edited these thoughts, and left them in their real and raw state that they were originally post.
Disclaimer
If you’re reading this, I’ve chosen to share these thoughts, and yes, that means open myself to a bit of vulnerability. Though I have edited this, many emotions here are still raw and evolving, representing both real hurt and pain. My intention is not to create division but to express what I am feeling—feelings that may resonate with others. While you may not agree with everything here, I invite you into a holy dialogue to help us grow together rather than harm the image of God in one another.
Self-Care After the Election
The votes have, for the most part, been counted, and the next President of the United States will be Donald Trump.
For me, writing these words and witnessing this outcome brings a profound sense of disappointment and even grief. I share this not to incite further divisiveness in our society. I do this to name the very real grief and fear that many Americans may be experiencing right now. This election, because of the dehumanizing rhetoric from the man who has been proclaimed the winner, has triggered a mixture of fear and uncertainty. For many, this fear is deeply personal, given how these attacks have been made personal towards people’s identity and self-worth have been made.
With this comes the question of what America might look like in the years to come. Some cheer with victory, while others are burdened with grief. We move forward into an uncertain future, one that some perceive as filled with potential pain and suffering, and this fact cannot be ignored. I believe that there is a genuine hope that the more extreme and divisive rhetoric will not come to pass, but having seen little evidence to the contrary, it is hard to ignore the fear born out of genuine human grief for the pains that have already been caused. This grief is not a privileged grief of perception. In conversation with dear friends, I have heard that the fear and anxiety in this time is born out of firsthand experiences in oppressed communities.
At the heart of this fear lies the universal human concern for dignity and bodily autonomy, a basic understanding of human worth, nay even a person’s right to exist a human being. Many have listened to the political discourse over the past decade, witnessed the previous administrations, and now live in greater fear because of what the coming leadership might mean for their personal lives, how they identify, who they love, or even the control they may have over their own bodies. This fear touches on their basic rights and identities, their ability to live safely and authentically as who they truly are. They feel their humanity threatened, and these are fears that cannot, nor should they, be easily ignored or passed over.
There’s no doubt that fears would have surfaced regardless of who won, and I am acutely aware that no matter who occupies the White House, our job as Christians to continue to seek after justice and equity for all people never ends. However, my deeper fear lies in the path that is taken towards that justice. My fear lies in the rhetoric that has been used. It is apparent that in this post-election reality, many Americans face a unique vulnerability when they don’t align with what runs counter to the rhetoric that has devalued their lives.
This leaves me, and perhaps many of us, wrestling with a pressing question (especially for pastors and Christians):
What does it look like to care for others, to have deep empathy and compassion for those struggling right now?
In the midst of asking this though, we also inevitably consider our own self-care as it is borne out in living that care for others. I have noticed in my own life that my desire for empathy and compassion paralyzes me in many ways. I know the pain that others are experiencing, not from personal experience but from the stories of personal experiences I have heard. I am struggling to care for others, not because I don’t want to, but because I am struggling to care for my own mental state in this moment. This is, most assuredly, a matter of privilege, and I do not shy away from that. It is the space I occupy in this world. I know at the end of the day, it will never be my humanity or my life on the line, but of others that are most at risk right now.
I want to help. I want to be a place of care and comfort for those who are grieving in our current society. And, I must take tangible steps to ensure I can offer that safe space for others to feel welcome and comforted. Therefore, I consider how to care for my mental state so that I can better care for others. The thing is, we must balance both of these simultaneously, lest very real harm can be caused. I do not want to be a “sideline-supporter.” I want those around me to know that I will support with every ounce of energy I have, and to do so I must wrestle with the idea:
How do I care for my own mental, emotional, physical, and even spiritual self while also standing up for the dignity and safety of those whose lives and identities are vulnerable?
I fully embrace who I am as a pastor and a leader in the Christian faith. A faith that is often seen at the center of much of this harm. Yet one, that I hope can be a part of the grace that God has imagined in this world. We must fully embracing our role. Standing with those who are a part of God’s beloved creation, and participating in the work of justice, compassion, and love. For those of us who feel the pain caused by divisive rhetoric—whether by the church or in the name of God—our commitment to human dignity and the hope we carry forward remains essential. We can boldly claim ourselves as a safe space where one is needed. Where there is harm being caused, we can stand as a voice of justice.
Reflecting on these recent days has deepened my empathy and compassion for those in pain. As a white, male-presenting, straight Protestant, I check all the boxes of privilege in our society. Though to part from divisive and hate-filled rhetoric, I grieve for those who live within this system that marginalizes and dehumanizes them. With privilege of ethnicity, gender, and even religion, my hope is to create space for the fullness of God’s creation. To not just recognize the humanity and self-worth of others but to create spaces where they feel safe, valued, and welcome. I want to work toward a world where justice and equity are the norm, where the grief and heartache of today become the seeds of joy and transformation tomorrow. This means that just as I care for others, I need to be ready in all ways to be ready for this work of God’s Kingdom.
This is a message for those who stand in this similar position as I do. To let you know that we have been called to care for others, and in doing so, we need to ensure that we are prepared in all ways for what this work will mean in our lives. We must stand with those who are being pushed beyond the margins of society. We must be with those whose voices are being drowned out by perceived oppression.
This is also a message for those who are currently living in fear for their humanity. I am here for you, and I am seeking to care for myself to ensure that I will always be ready, and will be beside you however you need me.
This means in this season, caring for myself also means caring for others. If I can’t extend compassion to those in need, then I have misunderstood self-care altogether. My grief and anger—real and tangible—call me to be a better neighbor, a more compassionate advocate, and a source of comfort to those around me. In choosing to reflect and act on these emotions, I embrace the opportunity to embody the grace, justice, and peace that our world so desperately needs.
There are several things we can do to care for ourselves in this time, and give us the space to be ready to care for others as well:
Ground Yourself Daily – Spend time each day in quiet reflection or prayer. Journaling, meditating, or even short walks (whatever works best for you mentally) can help to process complex emotions. Know that these are emotions worth having, and you are not alone in having them. Daily grounding time can help you sort through the noise, and know that it is through our assurance in Christ we have the strength to be who God calls us to be.
Set Boundaries with News and Social Media – Now, if I am honest, this is one that I struggle with myself. One of the healthiest bnoundarires we can set is limiting those things that fuel our anxiety. We can limit exposure to news or discussions that are not helpful. Rather, in your relationship to news and social media, seek to stay informed without being overwhelmed. There is most assuredly a balance between these two. We create space to know what is happening in the world to keep us connected, but not as a way to overwhelm ourselves.
Seek Out Supportive Communities – Relationships are the best source for compassion and empathy in our lives. You can connect with others who understand your experience, and these can become lifelines for emotional support. Meet people, befriend them, and have those relationships support your journey. This will in turn create the same supportive, reciprocal spirit.
Commit to Small Acts of Compassion – In the midst of turmoil, simple acts of kindness—checking in on friends, volunteering, or offering a listening ear—can help counter feelings of helplessness. Be the light for others, knowing that through your compassion the veil of hatred and oppression can be lifted. To be seen as grace-filled and loving can lead that compassion to be shared more broadly.
Embrace Rest and Renewal – Prioritize sleep, exercise, and activities that restore you physically and emotionally. Caring for others starts with caring for yourself. Know your limits and boundaries. However, do not allow them to be an excuse. Allow them to create safe spaces for yourself and others across your life. Creating this space helps you to recognize and be in a better mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual space to continue to love, serve, and care.
As we navigate uncertain times, remember that caring for ourselves is essential to sustaining our compassion for others. By grounding ourselves in empathy and intentional action, we can continue to be agents of justice and healing.