If you’ve suffered from severe depression, you know there’s that moment when you’ve hit rock bottom. I call it “the crash." Some call it a “nervous breakdown,” but that phrase is so antiquated and nondescript for what really happens. You mentally and physically crash, where darkness consumes you and cripples you.
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I don’t think I was the only one who woke up this morning not wanting to move, not wanting to get out of bed, not wanting to face the day when Donald Trump would become president of the United States — again. As I lay there agonizing, I thought about my bout with depression. There was an initial wave of sickness, it abated a bit, and then it all came roaring back. Just like Trump.
It is not easy — at all — to try to pick yourself up and move forward when severely depressed. Recovering, for me, took years, and it was by far the toughest thing I’ve ever done in my 60 years. It took enormous strength to face my demons, an unabashed fight, and steely resilience to escape the darkness and find the light.
I'm not going to sugarcoat it. For our community, pushing forward in the era of Trump 2.0 will take strength, resilience, and fight. The results that shocked us last year on Election Day were the start of what I consider the progressive decline of our morale and our hope for decency and light. Today came “the crash.”
We’ve all known this moment was coming but to see President Joe Biden step aside while Trump was sworn in was still jarring. There will be an unwelcome shift in the way this country treats marginalized communities. To see the rich and powerful sitting together at the inauguration tells you all you need to know about who will get priority during Trump II.
As we watched Trump being sworn in again and heard another sickening speech that only solidified the darkness he brings, today was most certainly our crash day. That inaugural address was astonishing, frightening, and ominous, and that could aptly describe how we feel about what lies before us.
Related: 11 takeaways from Donald Trump’s low-energy second inauguration
Trump thinks America’s decline is “over.” For many of us, it’s just begun. He was “saved by God to make America great again.” If God saved him for that (which I don’t believe), I don’t believe in God. To Trump, it’s “liberation day.” For us, it’s "subjugation day.” Bringing back “free speech” to Trump means hate speech for us. Removing social engineering to Trump is removing safety barriers for us. Two genders to Trump means an explosion of trans hate.
Inauguration speeches, by their nature and history, are to be uplifting. How many of us feel demoralized and devastated after what we heard today?
And as tough as it seems — almost impossible, frankly — as hard as the road ahead appears, as worn out and tired as we are, as much as we don’t feel we have the wherewithal to move forward, we have to push hard. That’s the only way we will survive and come out in light on the other side.
For years, we’ve fought tooth and nail to carve out spaces of inclusion and safety, only to see them threatened as diversity, equity, and inclusion programs are extinguished. It was to be one of the first executive orders Trump signed today, getting rid of DEI programs in the federal government. It was an intended slap in our faces.
What happens when you say DEI programs are wrong is that you send a message that anyone who is not white, straight, cisgender, and male is not welcomed, not just in the government, but elsewhere in society.
President Ronald Reagan was known for trickle-down economics, Trump will be known for trickle-down discrimination. We will see hate speech gain more traction and hate crimes become more brazen. Their echoes resonate with a chilling sense of emboldened cruelty.
The acceptance we have fought so long and so hard to achieve now risks being rebranded as "woke" — a term wielded as a weapon of derision, particularly among those who find their power in the rejection of our humanity. For LGBTQ+ individuals, this is not merely political; it is deeply personal, a direct challenge to our existence and the dignity we’ve claimed through decades of perseverance.
But history teaches us that resilience is written into our bones. We have stood on the front lines of the fight against AIDS, a crisis that decimated our communities and stole so many of our brightest souls. We have risen against inequality, demanded visibility, and earned the right to love openly, to marry, to serve our country without hiding who we are.
You can be sure that during the next four years, there will be efforts to tear away all of these rights we have gained. That’s why we cowered under our covers this early dawn. What Reagan referred to as “morning in America” now for us is “mourning in America” for the storm threat that threatens to destroy all we’ve accomplished.
These triumphs did not come without scars, and we will surely be scarred during the next four years; however, the scars are proof of our strength, our unyielding commitment to justice, and our ability to rise.
For me, getting through severe depression was a battle like no other. There were days when I didn’t think I could do it and two days when I tried to end it all. But, with humility aside, I came through it, with lots of help from those around me.
That’s what it’s going to take for us: unyielding commitment to stay the course and wrapping our arms around each other. Singularly, we can achieve much, but collectively we can soar and roar.
And so we brace ourselves for the next four years. We will continue to support one another, to resist the tides of exclusion, and to demand a future that refuses to yield to hate. Together, we will come out into the light, because we always have, because we must, and because it’s the only way we will survive.
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If you or someone you know needs mental health resources and support, please call, text, or chat with the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline or visit988lifeline.org for 24/7 access to free and confidential services. Trans Lifeline, designed for transgender or gender-nonconforming people, can be reached at (877) 565-8860. The lifeline also provides resources to help with other crises, such as domestic violence situations. The Trevor Project Lifeline, for LGBTQ+ youth (ages 24 and younger), can be reached at (866) 488-7386. Users can also access chat services at TheTrevorProject.org/Help or text START to 678678.
