Hope in the Face of Uncertainty

Navigating a Fractured System with Resilience By Emma Harris, Aging Advocate and Eldercare Care Specialist

This morning, I find myself admitting defeat—not in the larger sense of life, but in the context of coping with the outcome of this U.S. election. It feels like we’ve been “Larry Birded.” For those unfamiliar, Larry Bird wasn’t just an exceptional basketball player; his mental game was unmatched. He’d guard an opposing player and tell them exactly what he was about to do—how he’d score and when. The disbelief in his opponents often rendered them unprepared to defend against the very moves he had outlined.

That’s how I see our current situation. From the beginning, the conservative/fascist agenda was laid out in plain sight. Step by step, a written playbook told us what was coming. Many of us didn’t believe such a massive group could follow through. But they did. It was planned, contributed to, and always intended to become a reality.

At 37, I find it increasingly hard to muster the motivation to participate in this broken paradigm. Cause and effect seem irrelevant. Facts, logic, and meaning feel lost. Promises of success tied to degrees and certifications have evaporated. I know PhDs and individuals with double master’s degrees working at retail stores or cafés, drowning in debt they were told would be manageable after graduation. It’s devastating to be lied to—especially by a government whose lies carry the weight of shattered futures.

I am deeply concerned that healthcare in the U.S. will continue to crumble. I am afraid that Medicare and Medicaid will be defunded. I worry for elders who cannot return to work and are burning through their savings at an unsustainable rate. I fear for the problems that will worsen and the new ones that will emerge.

Art credit: Leaf Blogazine

The removal of basic rights, the erasure of significant histories (such as the Tuskegee Airmen being wiped from military records)—this is not okay. I am not okay. We are not okay.

According to Project 2025, we have a great deal of fearful actions to look forward to: escalating violence, and expanding detention centers—what some might call concentration camps—for those who dare oppose this administration. Dismantling of critical infrastructure, the firing of those who can provide checks and balances for the president, misinformation, and disinformation campaigns. An overhaul of all we know to be constitutional and legal.

Yet, despite this fear, I still have hope. I’ve worked with enough clients who lived through World War II, Korea, Vietnam, the Cold War, and countless other traumas. They survived. Survival is possible. The world we woke up to on January 21, 2025, is eerily similar to the one we bid farewell on September 2, 1945. The path ahead may be paved with trauma, but history shows us that fighting—whether through action or resilience—is often necessary to create a better future.

As a highly sensitive person, fighting doesn’t look like standing on a protest line. My fight is different. I write, study, share information, meditate, volunteer, listen deeply, provide medicine and care, post verified truths online, participate in support groups, and encourage others, hoping to receive the same encouragement.

Whatever you choose to do in the days ahead, I urge you to participate in any way you can. Mitigate hatred. Save reality and truth from erasure. Tell your children your life stories and write them down for future generations. Use critical thought when processing information, and seek out others’ perspectives. Investigate what you hear. Read books that inspire you and share them with others. Volunteer at a clinic, hospice, or community center. Check-in on loved ones. Meditate to process your anger and find clarity.

Find community. We are in this together.