Post-Election Angst? Staying With Uncertainty Can Bring Clarity and Calm

These are troubling times.

I’ve really been struggling with Trump’s refusal to concede the election. My faith in civil discourse has even been shaken. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and going for long, brooding walks. And I’ve had some helpful thoughts I want to share, in case you’ve been experiencing the same thing.

Initially, when I learned Biden had been elected, I felt such a wave of optimism that I felt sure Trump would concede. But a few days later, a heavy stone of anger and dread settled into my belly. Beneath the media’s uplifting reports on Biden was this other, darker narrative that’s impossible to ignore: of Trump declaring victory, attacking the media, and firing naysayers in the Department of Defense. “These are dictator moves,” said one alarmed Pentagon official.

I’m especially disturbed by the number of people who believe the president’s lies about election irregularities and fraud. It’s not just his base; it’s most Republican Party members. When I pointed out to one conservative friend that even Fox News says Biden won, he countered that he’d “done his own research” and found other outlets that report otherwise. And this is someone I love and respect.

Even smart, thoughtful people can be manipulated so that their emotions and assumptions override logic. You can’t reason with people who only hear what they want to hear and reject all sources that say anything else.

And when even good people are more willing to believe a demagogue than the media or experts, democracy can slide into fascism. I’m very worried about America’s future.

I do think Trump will eventually concede. But by the time he does, enormous damage will have been done—to our faith in our democracy, and to many Americans’ ability to discern truth from fiction.

It’s empowering to find ways to be calm.

When I talked to my therapist about my distress, she pointed out that others’ denial of the truth can feel invalidating, even abusive. Gaslighting is when one person knowingly tries to undermine another’s belief in reality. It’s a form of manipulation. That’s what the president is doing to the country right now.

I asked her what to do. What’s the counter-curse that will help me stay sane? She described two techniques:

1. Recognizing and naming what’s going on. “This person is trying to undermine my belief in reality.” “I’m angry, because this person is trying to manipulate me.”

2. Naming things we do know to be real. This is something people are taught to do when they’re traumatized and having an out-of-body experience: “This table is made of wood.” “I have five fingers.” “My name is Katie.” Getting a handle on reality is grounding. In this case, reality includes: “All experts and respected journalists say the election was free and fair, and that Biden won.”

My therapist also pointed out that we can take these two steps in our head. For mental health, it’s not necessary to confront the other person. I can choose whether to take the additional step of telling my friends, “You’re wrong. Trump is lying; Biden won.”

The most important thing is getting clarity for ourselves. From there, we can decide what to do next.

It’s about empowerment, she said. Naming our feelings, and finding certainty about reality, takes the power back from someone who’s trying to manipulate us. It’s also empowering to decide whether to confront another person, rather than feeling obligated to.

And finally, it’s empowering to find a way out of our distress. Distress is what Trump wants liberals to be feeling. Finding our way back to calm, and even joy, is a form of resistance.

Soul searching: when is civil discourse inappropriate?

Talking to my counselor helped me. It did help to gain clarity and begin to name what was going on. But over the next several days, I still felt that heavy stone of anger and dread—because recognizing I was being manipulated didn’t exactly breed compassion, and compassion is important to me.

And I was still questioning my faith in civil discourse. Had I been wasting my time all these years? By listening across the divide, was I sometimes a Neville Chamberlain, being too lenient with other people’s dangerous ideas?

Over the weekend, I went for a walk at night in the rain. I love walking in the Portland drizzle—in my jacket, rain pants, boots, and hat, only my face gets wet. And I love walking at night, seeing the comforting glow of others’ houses. There’s an intimacy, a privacy to the darkness. It makes me feel alone with the night.

As I walked, I wrestled again with the jumble of thoughts that had been rattling in my head all week. They’re complex, and they seem to contradict each other:

• On some issues, one side is just plain wrong. We must discern fact from fiction: two plus two equals four, climate change is real, and Biden won the election. With such issues, in at least some situations and some conversations, it feels important to correct lies. It’s dangerous to give them too much air time.

• On other issues, there’s room for multiple truths and for compromise. With social issues like racism, facts are vital, but they aren’t the only relevant information. There are also personal stories—those of people of color, those of white people—and different philosophies about how to help. People from all sides of the political spectrum have wisdom to offer, and people from all sides can also err, even well-meaning people.

• Not only the right, but also the left, has troubling ways of departing from reason and logic. On the right, it manifests as blind loyalty to the cult of Trump, and that’s where the problem is gravest right now. But on the left, it manifests as dogmatism about social justice that can lead to the abandonment of reason—not to mention the tendency to alienate would-be supporters. This, too, is worrisome.

• Civil discourse holds wisdom for at least some political issues, in at least some situations. The psychology is clear: people listen best when they’re not on the defensive, and calling them out on conspiracy theories or racism puts them on the defensive. Instead, the way to change someone’s mind is to bond with them and listen to them over time, not shout at them.

• Different people have different listening skills. Some people are simply incapable of taking the perspective of others. For them, the only purpose of dialogue is to learn how they think, because opening their minds is hopeless. Sometimes, civil discourse can feel like bumping up against a brick wall.

It’s okay not to have all the answers.

As I turned these thoughts and others over in my mind, I noticed myself trying to solve them, like a puzzle. I wanted a formula, a flow chart. Something like this:

But as I walked and the rain gently caressed my skin, it occurred to me that perhaps the solution wasn’t about formulas and flow charts. Or rather, that perhaps something additional was needed: the ability to stay with my discomfort.

“It’s okay not to have the answer right now,” said a voice in my mind. This was the thought that finally led me back to calm.

Staying with uncertainty leads to wisdom.

What I’m wrestling with, what so many of us are wrestling with, is complex and thick with nuance. There are many factors at play, ranging from very broad to very detailed: from existential threats, like the urgency of climate change and the need to protect democracy, to specific factors, like our relationship with the person we’re talking to and whether we’re up for a tough conversation at the moment.

The urgency of the problem makes me want to find a solution. I want a way out, as fast as possible. On my walk, I’d been hoping to come up with a formula I could share with you here, some magic guidance for navigating this delicate moment in history.

But the desire to quickly find a solution can turn off parts of our wisdom and trap us in highly left-brained, specific, rationalistic thinking so that we ignore quieter, more spiritual voices within. I realized that before creating any flow chart, I first needed to stay—to stay with my feelings and befriend my uncertainty.

I’m angry, I thought. But also, I’m worried, heartbroken, confused, exhausted, and afraid. These are softer, gentler feelings. There is wisdom in them, if I stay with them.

I’m inviting you to stay.

It was a great relief to recognize that I don’t have to know all the answers yet. I can hold my jumble of thoughts in my mind and just keep exploring them. This opens space for curiosity, humility, and growth. I’m like a shaken-up snow globe—it’s unclear where the snowflakes will settle, but eventually they will, and I’ll come out wiser in the end. That’s comforting.

Befriending uncertainty doesn’t mean abandoning all certainty. There are still things I know to be true—Biden won the election; Trump’s actions are dangerous; we’re in a troubling time.

But as I navigate these days and these conversations, it helps to remind myself that it’s okay not to know everything. I can recognize my feelings and the things that I know to be true, but also the things I’m not yet certain about. I’m not yet certain of the answers to questions like, “When is civil discourse inappropriate?” That’s okay.

This has been helping me, and I invite you to try it too. Try staying with your uncertainty for a while. It might help you find more compassion and calm—and that is a form of resistance.