Since politics inundates our days, and we live in a very Red county, I clicked on my good friend, Google, and asked for Logan County voter registration. I was curious about the Blue and Red numbers. Self-disclosure: I’m a lifelong unaffiliated voter turned blue. Years ago, I changed to a Democrat so I could vote in the Primary Election for my sweet Rotary friend, Marcia Luce.
Here’s the scoop for Logan County:
Under Active Registered Voters:
Democrats: 1,262; Republicans: 6,084; Unaffiliated: 5,149 for a total of 12,495.
There are also 249 people registered in eight additional parties.
Under Inactive Registered Voters;
• Democrats: 99; Republicans: 349; Unaffiliated: 609, for a total of 1,057 people who are registered but do not vote.
• Totals: 1,362 Democrats, 6,433 Republicans, 5,758 Unaffiliated, and 249 in eight additional parties.
I’m not a math person, but these numbers explain why I usually feel like the odd woman out. It makes me understand the meaning and impact of the word minority—stay small, only share opinions when safe, and search for humor.
I often feel anxious and worried about our country. Despite my efforts to stay uninformed, politics still appears in my inbox, on Facebook, and on every channel except Netflix. Politics is like a soap opera. Tune in once a week, you get the gist, and the same old drama continues.
I’ve now shared more about politics than I know. If I could, I would laser it like the Ophthalmologist did to my cataract lenses during my recent YAG surgeries. Two-hundred-eighty-six zaps later—voilà, life was clearer; I could read road signs, colors were vivid, and size 12 font was perfect.
I know doing nothing is not the answer, so I’ve been making a list of things I can DO that lessen the political impact on my soul. Add to the chaotic noise, retired, old, and alone, and my list of possibilities is short—but not empty.
As with any stress in life, if you can’t fix, change, mend, redesign, eliminate, or avoid it, you must learn to accept it. Admit you have no control over it, put it in a box, tie it with a bowline knot, and place it in the garage on top of your other useless junk. You know it’s still there, but you don’t trip over it when you refill your coffee cup in the morning.
DO is the magic word. I have written about myself in this article, but I learned years ago that when something affects me, I’m not alone. I hope my sharing gives you something to ponder, and whether you are Blue, Red, or Purple, activate the muscle in your writing hand to make a list of what you can do if you’re also growing politically weary.
Until the next time: Live while you live.
The photo is of one quilt from Depression Visible: The Ragged Edge by Diana Alishouse.
Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.
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