We Have a New President

Strong winds across Los Angeles. Nov, 4 2008. 11 pm.

This momentous, historic moment will be chronicled in countless places that makes it needless for me to add my thin, tin voice. Yet, today I am very proud to be an American, and I'm proud of the American people in unifying behind a great need, and potentially a great leader. Obama's speech tonight was his shining moment, and it's a powerful moment that can still draw tears from a political cynic in the midst of a crowded tavern of that was undulating in waves between raucous cheering and stately, almost reverant silence. And in a sad way, this night was also John McCain's best moment. If he would've shown more of the grace he demonstrated in his concession speech during the campaign, it wouldn't have been a landslide. You had to know that he was thinking a great deal about his legacy tonight, and worked to repair it, as a constipated Palin squirmed beside him, ready to shove the old man off stage-left.

There's a hopeful feel tonight, but though I'm emerging slowly from the deep funk I was in for the past week, I can't help being saddened by the lack of someone to share such a special moment with. My ex and I exchanged texts and phone calls during the event, with our son adorably shouting "Pres-dent Barack Obama!" into the phone, but there's a hollowness there. Enjoying the moment with co-workers and casual friends was nice too, but... it didn't help when friends of friends arrived, necessitating small talk while waiting for Obama's speech. It was one of those moments that is meant to be shared with those close to you. I was far away from them, and one of my deep questions right now is... who are those people?

There were texts exchanged with a few others, from my sister to my movie-partner in crime, V. But there's still that void.

It was a windy, cool night in Los Angeles. One of those spectacular nights where the palm trees are swaying, destined to litter the street with oversized palm fronds and leaves. I love those nights, with their ability to awe and inspire. And yet it's an empty enjoyment when you can't share that with someone.

I had a good therapy session today, where I was commended for actually diving into the murk of my sadness over the past week. Instead of following the path of my family - of burying pain, disappointment, anger, etc. - I was acknowledging it, and letting it wash over me, as a way of experiencing and acknowledging it. I didn't really think of it in that way (I hardly patted myself on the back for being so morose), but I think she's right - I'm evolving in a way that my family never has.

But we ended the session talking about the question of "what do I think of myself?". We treaded around loneliness, and I said that I've never had a problem being alone. I enjoy time on my own. And I think that's true. But it's also not true, and I've never really spent any time truly alone. It's much easier to enjoy your solitude, yourself, and your own ideas when it's just a temporary respite. When there's the security of a relationship on the other side of that solitude.

In all honesty, aside from a year-long stretch or so after college, I've mostly had that security and protection in my life. I don't really know how to exist without it, how to be content with myself. Maybe I am content with myself, but because there's this void in my life, I just don't know what contentedness looks like. I couldn't really answer the question of what I think about myself. What is my self-image. I feel like I'm generally very honest in therapy, and I was trying to be honest, but I also felt like I was just spewing stump speeches at that moment.

I don't know the answer to that question. Do I really like myself? I always thought I did. I want to believe that I do.

On a historic night like tonight, I want to believe... I want to believe. But I'm not sure I do.