It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I'm a progressive, liberal, socialist Democrat. And I live in a home with three demented human beings. One has Alzheimers and the other two are Republicans.
I bite my tongue a lot.
But not joking, I decided one of the best ways to survive during this politically charged time is to keep my opinions to myself at the dinner table, politely but firmly stop conversations about Trump and call my senators (or Tweet/Facebook them often). I have some great representatives, I must say.
And it's worked. We've avoided fighting, we don't talk much politics and life has been pretty calm.
Recently, both my Republican family members have admitted to embarrassment of the president. Or as my SIL said last night, "I liked the message but I despise the messenger." And before anyone jumps on that: they like the economic message, not the racist one. They believe in stronger borders and a stronger military, they don't believe in banning religions.
I feel bad for them. I really do. Because to express any dismay as a Republican that the president is an amazing, flaming, orange jerkwad of astronomical proportions is to open yourself up to ridicule. Especially when there are still parts of the message that resonate with you.
I'm sympathetic. I really am. I understand why they voted for Trump and I hope that as the true despair and horror of the megalomaniac sinks in, they can keep their heads upright and not crawl about in muck because of their shame. But I won't pile the muck on their shoulders.
I feel bad for them. I really do. Because as every day goes by, they see the horror they unleashed and as they try to defend their choice, they have to admit their own culpability and bear that weight. As well as hear and deal with the shaming that so many around them vocalize.
It isn't easy to be a Republican nowadays. And I love the ones I live with. But now I'm privy to seeing the dawning realization of what they've done and I feel sorrow for them. Never thought I'd say that. But then again, I never thought that they would both, within a week of each other, express the same embarrassment of the Cheeto in Chief.