adventuresofasuperwoman

Post-traumatic voting disorder

I felt like a kid, swearing I’m never going to wash my left thumb ever again! Voting was the most liberal experience I had in years. I had a silly grin on my face for most of the night. I showed off the ink on my thumb like a six-year-old would his/her newly cast broken arm. It felt like my greatest accomplishment. And let’s be honest, it’s still at the top of my list of big things you should do. It was simply glorious, to say the least! But then came the next day…

I thought that we’d all wake-up to a new world, but alas, the noise is still deafening, the cheese in the fridge went mouldy, the beggar is still on the street corner and my smile and R2 coin doesn’t seem to make it better, the neighbours are still smoking weed and work is piling up. Alarmingly, in an awkwardly calm manner, my world feels quite the same as pre-election. The shiny drop of blue with purple tones on my thumbnail has turned into a black-brown blodge that reminds me of the time I hit my thumb in the car door.

Yes, I believe that I am suffering from post-traumatic voting disorder. I console myself with the fact that even though I may not see it, my vote, just like millions of others, is individual, made a huge difference and is my right to freedom. That, for now, is enough to keep me content.

Due to my sorry state of disorder, there’s no recipe today. Instead I’m going to have a double Jackie D with a shot of lime, on the rocks and possible dissolve my queasiness with some of Cadbury’s finest. I promise food for next week! Till then, by the grace of God (and there is plenty!), stay safe, super people!