When The Unexpected Hits

Over the weekend, I took a trip to drop off my recycling. As I unloaded my bin, I noticed something—so much of it was just paper. But when I got there, I saw that the paper recycling bins were almost overflowing. 

Curious, I took a closer look. And there it was, piled high: election attack ads. Page after page from both sides, filling up nearly every inch of those bins. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, I was. It was like all the noise and nastiness of the election had a tangible weight—heavier than I’d realized. I started to wonder what this election really meant for me, for all of us. I thought I knew, but now I wasn’t so sure. The closer we got, the more disheartened I’d felt by the constant attacks and the bitterness that seemed to be the main course served up on all sides. 

When the Democratic Convention happened, I remember feeling this sense of uplift and hope. And I valued the moments I’d had with people like Jon Tester, where connection felt sincere and real. But as the days went on, that energy got swamped by the rising tide of attack ads, fewer people listening and more just yelling. Even I found myself getting self-righteous, convincing myself that at least my side’s attacks weren’t as bad as the misogyny and hate I saw from the other side. Still, deep down, I knew I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Not until I saw the results. It left me with a desire to blame, to lash out—or to retreat.

Then, the unexpected hit. Not in the news, but right at home. My two dogs, Rosie and ZuZu, got into a brutal fight. Rosie, my usually sweet and playful girl, had hurt her sister badly. And as we sat there in the aftermath, I was told they might never be able to be together again. That possibility broke my heart. How could this happen?

Staring at Rosie, I couldn’t bring myself to feel anger or resentment. I just had to believe something was hurting her that I didn’t understand. That’s when something clicked. If I could feel compassion for her, then why couldn’t I feel that same compassion for people—people who act out of their own pain or fear?

I realized I didn’t have to respond with more fear. It didn’t mean I’d be a pushover or look away if something was truly wrong, just as I wouldn’t let Rosie’s behavior go unchecked. I’m watching closely to make sure they’re safe with each other, stepping in if I need to. But I’m choosing to keep my heart open.

Now, Rosie and ZuZu are healing together, resting side by side again. That’s how I want to approach reconnecting with my community after this election. I want to move forward with an open mind, leaving behind the resentment I felt from all those attack ads. Clearly, I’m not the only one who got tired of them. So much energy and money went into tearing down instead of building up.

I think we’re all ready for something different. As I look to the future, I want to meet it with curiosity. I don’t know what’s ahead, but I don’t want to let my old fears or stories decide for me. I want to believe in people, and when faced with anger, to pause instead of attacking back. I want to choose kindness over fear. 

I hope you’ll join me in that.