The morning after the election, I was suspicious of people who appeared to feel full of righteous, organized vigor. "No time for despair," they posted on Facebook, seeming cool, calm, determined. "Now is the time to fight!"
"Really?" I recall mumbling at my phone through the haze of an impressive hangover and the dawning realization that the previous evening's events were not, in fact, a dream. "I feel like there's a little time for despair."
I stand by this sentiment: mourning, depression, anxiety and nihilism are all real, and they're all really valid states in which to find oneself at this particular American moment. Yesterday, Gabe made you a playlist for those feelings. Go ahead, wallow in it.
Today, I'm here to grab your hand and pull you out of the well.