Election Reflections

The last 24 hours of my life have been characterized by more emotional highs and lows than I think any single 24-hour period of my life, ever.

I left my house yesterday, donning all of my Hillary gear that I could wear at once without looking like a coat rack, bound for a little watch party with my sister and brother in law, Shyawn.

I was so excited that I even stopped for a shit ton of orange snacks (Cheetos, Doritos, etc.) and champagne to help celebrate the victory of our first female president and bid adieu in a YUGEE way to that dumpster by eating his doppelganger; Cheetos.

I was fucking elated. I was so pumped for this day! I have waited my entire life for this.

THE FIRST AMERICAN FEMALE PRESIDENT!

This day was big. And I wanted to do it in a big way. I shed emotional and excited tears throughout the day. We settled in, with our assortment of orange snacks and alcohol, ready to see the results roll in. Let the sea of blue roll in, baby!

As an aside, I know everyone was excited yesterday. But for me, personally, this was so much more. I worked on her 2008 campaign, and have campaigned hard, and donated lots of time and money over the years, to see this victory through.

I am not just an armchair or Facebook impassioned political person.

I sleep, eat, and breathe this stuff. It is part of the fiber of my being. If you know me personally, you know this is true. I have dedicated my entire adult life to fighting for women, women’s health, women’s rights, and policies which shape and impact women’s health. Since I was 18, I have worked for NARAL Pro-Choice Washington, managed field operations for HRC’s 08 campaign in my county, worked for a pro-midwifery advocacy organization, as a Doula at SeaMar Community Health Center for largely undocumented female Hispanic immigrants as part of AmeriCorps, volunteered at a women’s domestic violence shelter, volunteered with a legal aid organization for women, campaigned for Planned Parenthood in Olympia, worked in a health center in Nicaragua identifying strategies to help high risk women get the care they need, when they need it, and have worked for the past four years training healthcare providers to manage obstetric and neonatal emergencies in limited resource settings around the world. I have a bachelor’s degree in Women’s Studies and Law. My Master’s degree is in Sustainable Development, with a focus on women’s international health policy. 

I don't say this to toot my own horn, but for people to understand the monumental impact and importance this was to have, and has had on me, personally.

This is my life.

As a human, as a woman, as someone who works professionally to assure women everywhere have better access to vital, life saving healthcare, and that there are policies in place to protect and provide these services, this was personal.

Hillary has also made women, women’s health, women’s rights, and children’s rights and health her life’s work. In 2008 when Obama was running, I don't think my peers understood why I campaigned so hard for HRC. And again last year, I think people were dismayed at, “how I couldn’t be for Bernie.”

I pride myself in being outspoken, and standing up for my beliefs, even when it is not easy, and even when it isn’t popular. I have fiercely loved and advocated and campaigned for Hillary because she gets it: she understands what it is like to fight this hard, why it is so important, why women matter, why women’s health matters, and why women in power and leadership matter.

Women’s rights are human rights, and human rights, are women’s rights.

I studied and wrote about CEDAW (please research this and how HRC was instrumental in this pivotal piece of legislation if unfamiliar), all through my undergraduate studies. Next to Roe v. Wade, it became the single piece of policy I was most familiar with. I knew it backwards and forwards. And more than that, I believed in its importance, and respected that she campaigned and fought so long and hard for it.

Because women’s rights are human rights, and human rights, are women’s rights.

So now, perhaps if you didn't before, you can begin to understand why I have made the choices for her as I have.

Back to last night.

We were in a celebratory mood. Shyawn snapped some photos of me in front of their wall size projection screen next to various state victories. I was giddy! It was like mother fucking Christmas morning.

Until it wasn’t.

As Florida’s results started rolling in, I began to worry. I started to develop this pit in my stomach, and felt like the wind was knocked out of me. I could see what was happening.

I knew.

At times, I retreated to their dark office, alone, and laid on the floor in the dark. I was flooded emotionally and my introverted self needed some decompression time.

When they were finally able to pull me out of the office, I alternated between enveloping myself in a blanket, thinking somehow, that I could shield myself from what I knew was happening.

They told me not to give up hope.

I have an intimate understanding of our dumpster fire electoral system from years of study. I was under my blanket, doing math in my head.

26% in for Miami. What percentage did Obama win that county in 2012? How many thousands of votes? I repeated this math in my head for many different counties, with various permutations of possibilities.

I was trying to find a logical way out of this epic fuckery that I knew was happening.

Math had to be on our side, right?

As the orange Cheeto would say: WRONG.

Wrong.

WHAT THE FUCK.

I kept thinking back to the last SNL skit between HRC and Cheeto (go watch it if you haven’t!). When she does her exaggerated bemoaning scream after he kisses Putin and does other crazy shit that no one notices, and then she says,

“What is happening, has the whole world gone mad?!”

That was me.

What is happening? How is this happening? Has the whole country gone mad?

BAAHHAOOOOOOAOAOAOOAOA. (me, and my unintelligible guttural reaction to the electoral map.).

When they called Florida for Cheeto, I yelled out an epic, long, and guttural FUCKKKKKKKKKKK.

I knew it was over.

My 2-year-old nephew, Hudson, was standing right there.

Sorry, Bubson boy.

Sorry, for so many reasons, and the least of which was the massive F bomb your auntie just bellowed.

I wanted to be in the fetal position.

I managed to get out of my blanket cocoon and collapsed, with my head in my hands.

Shyawn captured a photo of this.

I am actually incredibly grateful for this photo. It captures such a raw, real reflection of the absolute sheer physical devastation I was feeling. It says more than I ever could.

I love photography, but we tend, as society, to only capture the happy moments, and I am also guilty of that. However, I often feel that we can find the most striking images in our lowest points. We photograph weddings, but not funerals, but they both have momentous impacts on your life.

I think it is as important to remember those moments just as much as the happy ones, to have proof of where you were at some of your lowest moments.

It was shortly after this photo that I finally broke down.

Epically.

It hadn’t been called yet, but I knew.

I wasn’t giving up, I was just tired.

After all this, after all these years of fighting, she wasn't going to get it.

I was exhausted, and the floodgates smashed open.

And the tears rolled down my face, at first silently. And then progressed into a deeper, more painful and ugly cry.

Jennifer handed me Hudson, and I held him close, rubbed his back, and I cried.

For him, for me, for her.

For us all.

At this point, Shyawn in horror, stated that unfortunately, if Cheeto gets a second term, Hudson would be 10 when it is over.

10!

A lifetime.

I wanted some of his earliest memories, and those of his peers, to be of a woman in power.

Of female leadership.

Of it being the norm that women are powerful people, and that powerful people are women. Women are important, and important people are women.

I momentarily collected myself by pretending to eat his and his beloved lion’s appendages, and then went to the bathroom to wipe away the snot river that covered the upper half of my body.

I saw myself in the mirror and it felt like my innards were ripped out of me. And I broke down again.

How?

Why?

What?

The.

Fuck.

FUCK.

I was distracted by a little person trying to find his Auntie in the bathroom. So I opened the door after collecting myself, hoping he wouldn't have to see me in that state, and went, BOO! I scooped him up, and he pointed to the Christmas tree, so we went to admire it.

He pointed and showed me all of the lights, and we pretended to be electrocuted, because it felt  appropriate.

I told him that Auntie was having a lot of feelings like he had been earlier (he had been uncharacteristically cranky and upset earlier in the evening), because some really sad things were happening. And that I am sorry his first election didn't go as I had hoped. In his little knowing way looked at me and goes,

Oh. Uh huh. Oh. Oh, with big eyes and little nods.

Nodding along, wiser beyond his years. And then he leaned into me, and gave me a cuddle, and then put his lion up to my face, which I proceeded to pretend to eat again. He knew, wise beyond his years, that I needed a little extra loving, so he offered his most prized possession to me. I set him down, and cried again.

Then I made myself a strong drink. But I couldn't drink it. Everything made me feel like I was going to vomit.

They offered me a Xanax, but I refused. I wanted to feel this, all of it, to the depths of my core. I felt it important for me to process it all.

At 9:30, I said I had to go home. Nothing had been called, but I had a 6:00 AM call, and given the fact that I had only slept 3 hours the night before, I knew elation wasn’t going to power me through my lack of sleep, as I had previously assumed it would.

I told Jennifer I thought I was going to throw up. She said, “He’s not worth it.”

I said, it isn’t about him right now, it is about her. And I cried some more.

I went home, and as soon as I got in my car I broke down. Epic, big time, ugly sobbing, shaking cry.

Hands at 10 and 2, face to the ceiling, why? Why?

I let out a guttural scream. The last time I felt like this was the first time I drove home from my parent’s house after finding out my Mom had ALS and was going to die.

I am not trying to conflate that two, nor to say that this loss is the same. It is not. The ALS and my Mom is of course, so much worse. But I merely say this for people to understand the depth of loss I felt, and feel.

I drove home in a daze, and as I pulled up, I knew I was going to puke.

I rushed up our stairs, and barely made it into the bathroom, where I violently vomited, over and over. Like food poisoning violent. It was like there was a toxin in me and it needed to get out.

I have never in my life experienced such a physical reaction to something as I did last night.

I was home alone, as Cris was at work. My net of closest confidants, friends, and Cris were all texting me, knowing what terrible shape I must be in.

And they were right; they all know me oh so well.

Kristina suggested a take the Valium I had planned to take the night before my wedding but didn't. So I did.

I just needed to be put out of my misery.

I slept on and off, restless, drug induced sleep for just a few hours before my alarm went off at 5:45 AM for my 6:00 AM call with our team in Uganda. I had had a dream that Hillary was coming to my wedding, and I was in the process of trying to find a place suitable enough to have her there when my alarm went off.

I was dazed and confused and then it hit me:

The Cheeto won.

That mother fucking dumpster juice Cheeto.

And I cried.

I called in, barely put together, and was able to speak at the appropriate times, but barely functioning. 

After it was over, I laid there in the dark. It felt appropriate. The world had gone dark and mad, just like I felt.

You may think I am being melodramatic, but I feel like I have a perspective on this that many do not have, due to my line of work.

I rarely, if ever, talk about my work in the field with anyone unless they can understand it, and almost never, on social media. I generally go into shut down mode when abroad. Why? Many reasons. For one, I don't want to project a white saviour complex thing, and make people think I am the strong one or deserving or looking for praise.

I am just doing my job.

The people I am working with are doing their life.

I also don't want people to get a bad image of life for people in places radically different than ours. I don't want to be a part of it. I have zero desire for poverty porn. This is why you have never (and will never) seen a photo of a woman labouring in a facility, or a crying kid, or me holding a baby or whatever.

Gross.

I did recently, in September, talk a bit about an experience I had while in Kenya. I felt comfortable enough sharing it because it was told to me third party, and I didn't feel like it was patronizing anyone.

One of my Kenyan midwife trainers was making me “pregnant”, with a simulated belly for a fundal height measuring station. While we were waiting, just the two of us, she told me about one of her nurses in her county (she oversees reproductive health services in her county), had just died, and she was going to leave the next day to attend her funeral. She died from a massive post partum hemorrhage, which is bleeding after birth, from her uterus being unable to contract on its own as it should after delivery.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Fucking tragically and horrifically ironic that a woman who helps women safely bring babies into the world, died in childbirth.

There isn’t one thing you can point to as to why this woman died. It was a massive systems failure. But one thing? That for sure contributed? They didn't have access to misoprostol.

A 25-cent tablet.

What is misoprostol? How does it relate to this campaign and issues at present?

Well, misoprostol is a medication that is incredibly effective at causing the uterus to contract during a hemorrhage due to atony (“floppy” or “tired” uterus that won’t contract on its own). The beauty of misoprostol is that it is cheap, it is easy to administer and requires no additional equipment that is often lacking (it is administered rectally or sublingually in these settings, so no IV equipment is needed), the healthcare provider needs very little training to use it, and it is shelf stable, meaning it doesn't need refrigeration, which is vitally important in places without electricity. Again, there are many reasons why she didn't get it, and why the facility didn't have it, but the most important one for this discussion:

Misoprostol is also an incredibly effective first trimester abortifacient. It is used to induce abortions, very safely and very effectively.

Misoprostol due to Bush’s bullshit PEPFAR plan, was wiped off of the map in many countries. If you don't know much about PEPFAR, please read about it. (President’s Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief). Sounds good, right?

As Cheeto says: Wrong.

Part of PEPFER made USAID money contingent on abstinent only education and wouldn't fund facilities that provided abortions. As such, many places and countries decided to follow the Draconian policies of the Bush era, and adhere to his personal whims, or risk losing funding all together.

8 years later, there are still many places around the world where misoprostol is still incredibly difficult to get, even though it is no longer a mandate of PEPFAR (thanks, Obama.).

I want the importance of this to sink in:

8 years later, there are still women dying, because of GWB’s policies.

There are still women dying, because of George W. Bush, and he hasn’t been president for 8 years.

I have seen lots of people saying, well, it is ONLY four years, he doesn't have that much power, we will win the presidency back in 2020.

For the love of anything that is holy, I hope so.

However, a single Cheeto can do a lot of damage in 4 years. How long can RBG hang on? How many Supreme Court justices will he appoint?

How many rights and laws and services will be repealed or restricted, because of him?

It is only 4 years, but the echo from four years can last a generation.

Trust me, I have seen it first hand.

And it is not good.

I have oscillated between rage and sadness and depression and pity and fear and darkness and so many things. But I have a few messages—

For the basket of deplorables, I have nothing to say to you. I have a finite amount of energy, and using it on you isn’t worth my time at present. Perhaps later, but not today.

For the third party voters, protest voters, voted for Jack-Wagon-Gary-Johnson or doesn’t-believe-in-vaccines-Jill-Stein, or those who abstained, “on a moral ground,” this is my message to you, I want you to read it all. Every word –

Why?

Were you overly confident that you thought your vote didn't matter?

Did you think this was a joke?

Did you think there was no way that the Cheeto could win?

Was it worth it?

I hope so—because you are responsible.

For every action, there is a reaction.

And I can guarantee with the utmost certainty, that I will see so much more first hand—the devastation, the reverberations for years to come in my career, than you can ever even fucking possibly remotely imagine.

For shame.

For shame.

This isn’t’ a discussion on the DNC, or the electorate (dumpster fire, we can agree to that). This is a discussion on the fact that people played a game with people’s lives.

People of color.

LGBTQ folks.

Muslims.

Immigrants.

The disabled.

Overweight people.

People who speak out in the press.

Survivors of sexual assault.

Women.

Humanity.

Was it worth it?

For shame.

You just elected a sexual predator, misogynistic, xenophobic, dictator Cheeto who spews divisive vitriol.

Was it worth it?

For shame.

When you hear in the coming years about increases in incidences of sexual assault, including against children, which will undoubtedly increase, because you have now just normalized and legitimized it by voting it into office, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When you hear about victims of sexual violence and sexual assault NOT coming forward for fear of not being believed, chastised, threatened, or worse, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When you hear about another classroom full of kindergartners being blown away by an assault rifle, since there is now no way in hell the assault rifle ban will be reinstated, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When you hear about an unarmed black man being shot for no reason, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When the wall starts to take shape, and immigrants are blamed, beaten, shunned, kicked, ignored, or worse, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When there is a revival of the KKK, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When abortion rights are restricted or taken away, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When people will literally die because they no longer have access to life saving healthcare through Obamacare, or become pregnant unintentionally because their access to birth control was taken away, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When we go to war with Iran, or fill in the blank, and thousands die, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When the LGBTQ community loses their right to marry, or to be free from legal discrimination, are beaten, kicked, and killed, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

When we lose our very humanity towards each other due to the divisive nature of the Cheeto that we have legitimized, this is what I want you to do:

Be proud. Rise up, and say: THAT WAS ME! I VOTED FOR THAT VALUE! I VALUE THAT! I AM IN PART RESPONSIBLE! FOR EVERY ACTION, THERE IS A REACTION!

For shame.

Was it worth it?

For shame.

If it wasn’t, I want you to closely revaluate your priorities and values as a citizen, and as a human. 

If you feel regret, don’t just feel regret, act on it. 

Immediately. 

Don't just gaslight and ignore all of the above and spout something about our two-party system or the DNC, it is a waste of everyone’s time, including your own. Face the consequences.

For every action, there is a reaction.

Is it the reaction you were hoping for?

For my fellow people in mourning, in anguish, in a deep dark place, this is my message to you –

We will prevail.

The popular vote was won by Hillary. She is the people’s president.

We must keep fighting. I know you are exhausted, so am I, but prevail and continue fighting we must.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves. Use the shields of privilege you have, and help use them as armour to protect those who currently fear for their own safety. Whether it is your race, your sex, your sexuality, your religion, your economic status, or your citizenship. Use all of the powers you have to protect those who are at actual risk of being beaten, deported, killed, kicked, demonized, and more.

Let people know where you stand. And tell people who voted the other way the implications for their actions. Try to understand their hate. This will be hard, but it is important.

To all Americans –

Whether you are blue or red or apathetic, I want you to realize and believe that when women say sexism and misogyny is real, I want you to believe them. When minorities say racism and prejudices are real, believe them. When people of other faiths say hate crimes and prejudices are real, believe them. When the LGBTQ folks say they are in fear of their safety, are discriminated against, believe them.

Because if we have learned anything in this election, is that these things are festering, much closer to the surface than even I ever realized.

Believe it.

Because if we don't, as individuals, as women, as men, as straight, and gays, as atheists and Muslims and Christians, as people of color and as whites, as citizens and immigrants, as democrats, as republicans, as Americans, as a collective;

We

Will

Never

Change

Anything

To Hillary, even though I know you will never read this –

My heart breaks for you. You have fought the good fight your entire life. You have been put through the wringer more times than I can count, and have stood up after each fall, more than should be expected of any one human. You have defied odds, and you have stood where no other woman has stood before, and tried to fit into a man’s world.

I cannot imagine the isolation, the hardship, the struggles, and the pain you must have endured. My heart is with you.

My heart is breaking with you, and for you.

You have been blamed for things that you should have never been blamed for. You aren’t perfect, but you were expected to be, even when those pointing the finger were not perfect themselves.

It was an honor to meet you, and I will repeat the words I said to you that day:

“Thank you for dedicating your life and career to advancing and protecting women’s rights and women’s health. You are my inspiration. Keep fighting the good fight.”

To which you replied, “Thank you, I will.”

 And I know you will. Even without the official title. Because if there is anything true about you, it is that you don't give up. You are an example of what it means to get up when you've been knocked down. Again, and again.

You are my sister in solidarity and you will always be my president.

You will always be my president.

To my fellow women, mourning this loss on an intimately and personal level, this is my message to you –

I understand. This is personal.

For all of the women whose bodies have been treated like property, who have been assaulted, touched, or forced against their will, I am with you. I understand the absolute devastation of seeing people vote in a sexual predator and validating sexually predatory acts by voting for him, and how soul crushing it is, particularly if you have been a victim, as I have been myself.

For all of the women who are disheartened at the fact that a woefully less experienced, less educated, and less qualified man has just been elected to the highest office over the most qualified candidate ever, and feeling dismayed by the notion that men are more deserving and more capable and more qualified than women was just validated by this election by many in this country, I am with you. For those of you who have been paid less than their male counterparts, and less than those who are less experienced than you, I am with you and I understand.

For my fellow sisters who fight the good fight day in and day out. For the times you've been called

a cunt,

a bitch,

crazy,

psycho,

accused of voting with your genitals,

had your very physical safety threatened,

 have had your intelligence insulted; I

 hear you and I am with you.

The words, the names, the threats; they sting, they shock, they scare, but they do NOT change anything, they do NOT change who we are, as long as we keep standing up.

In words much more eloquent than my own, from Hillary’s concession speech today, which I wept through, painfully:

“And to the young people in particular, I hope you will hear this. I have, as Tim said, spent my entire adult life fighting for what I believe in.

I’ve had successes and I’ve had setbacks.

Sometimes, really painful ones.

Many of you are at the beginning of your professional public and political careers. You will have successes and setbacks, too.

This loss hurts, but please never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.

It is — it is worth it.

And so we need — we need you to keep up these fights now and for the rest of your lives.

And to all the women,

and especially the young women,

who put their faith in this campaign and in me; I want you to know that nothing has made me prouder than to be your champion.

Now, I — I know — I know we have still not shattered that highest and hardest glass ceiling, but some day someone will and hopefully sooner than we might think right now.

And — and to all the little girls who are watching this,

never doubt that you are:

valuable

and powerful

and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams.

…

I believe we are stronger together and we will go forward together.

And you should never,

ever,

regret fighting for that.

You know, scripture tells us,

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season, we shall reap if we do not lose heart.”

So my friends, let us have faith in each other, let us not grow weary, let us not lose heart,

for there are more seasons to come.

For there is more work to do.”

Hillary, as you said in your concession speech in 2008, you may not have cracked that highest glass ceiling just yet, but you have put an additional 59,796,805 cracks in it.

And you can be sure; I will do my damndest, every day, for the rest of my life, to help contribute to shattering that shit apart.

In solidarity.

Stuck between a literal rock and a hard spot

I am an avid water enthusiast. I do pretty much all water sports and have next to no fear in the water, which has gotten me in trouble a few times.

We had the day off today from trainings, so Jen, a midwife who is training with us, and Susan, who I work with, decided to go white water rafting. I have been multiple times in various other countries and loved it, and they were like sure sounds good! Susan has a mild fear of water, so she was getting a little uneasy, but I assured her it would be fine.

The Nile River is known for extreme white water rafting, and people come from all over the world to do so and to kayak it. The rapids were a level 5 today (generally the highest that a rafting company will take people through). The Nile is also very deep because it is so wide.

We set off, got a very scary safety briefing on all the things to do and not do. As I had done this multiple times before, it didn’t phase me as much as it did Jen and Susan because it was their first time hearing all of these things.

We had heard from other colleagues who have rafted the Nile that they flipped their rafts, and assured us we would also flip. I hadn’t ever been in a raft that had flipped before, so wasn’t all that worried. I was actually a little bit excited at the prospect of flipping, LOL! Water adrenaline junkie!

Be careful what you wish for.

As soon as we got in the raft, the guide made us jump out because he wanted to see how we did in the water and if we could get back in. All the women massively failed at getting back into the raft (myself included). It is REALLY hard pulling yourself up over a boat with gear on!

We set off, and pretty quickly approached our first rapid. Jen and I were in the front. We coasted down what appeared to be a straight shot down (and the photos later seemed to prove this!) and we plunged right into the water, but didn’t tip.

IT WAS SO FUN!

We lost one person overboard (but we quickly got her back). My adrenaline was pumping. The photos in the beginning are hilarious because I look like a kid, smiling wide, having fun, and most everyone else looks terrified. After our second rapid, everyone seemed hooked. We didn’t flip! Other rafts had, but everyone was loving rafting.

As we approached the third rapid, the guide told us the direction to swim “when” we tipped. If you’ve never been white water rafting, the general setup is everyone sitting on the edge of the boats (not in the middle, which I thought before I went the first time), paddling as hard and as fast as they can through the rapids to navigate them. When paddling isn’t going to do anything, the guide yells, “DOWN!” and you get down in the boat, hold your paddle, and hold the rope on the side of the raft. You are never supposed to let go of the rope. Let me tell you, it is A LOT harder than it sounds!!

As we enter the rapid, I can see (and hear) that this is a much bigger rapid than the previous two. Before long, our guide yells, “DOWN!!” and we all get down. Almost immediately I could feel us tipping sideways, and before I could even process, we were under the raft, underwater, rumbling down the river. I knew I was somewhere in the middle of the raft because I couldn’t immediately feel any rope, but eventually climbed my way out. I held onto the raft for maybe 2.5 seconds before letting go. Jen, Susan, and I immediately spun away from the raft, but were all together. I immediately did the universal water sports “Are you ok?” symbol, (hand to head), and everyone was. We were just floating (quickly) down the river, and couldn’t seem to catch or hold onto anything. Eventually some kayakers in our crew rescued us and we hung onto the bow and stern and they paddled us back to a raft. Another raft rescued me, but I eventually was able to get into my original raft. A little scary, but still fun!

We then spent a long time, very lazily making our way down the river. I was starting to get bored and wanted some action! Before too long, we hit another rapid, and like clockwork, we got down, and almost tipped immediately. These rapids were INTENSE! Way scarier than any I have ever done. We didn’t end up tipping, and made it down in one piece.

Shortly thereafter, they made us walk around on the shore because there were some insane level 6 rapids, which are too intense for rafting. These were INSANE. I wish I had a camera with me. The sound alone was crazy. Once we passed the rapids, we got back in the boat. The guide explained that the next rapid we were going to go through was going to be intense, and that if we went under, we would likely be underwater for a lot longer due to the currents, depths, and length of the rapids. He also said that when we tip, to swim left, because there was a level 6 rapid to our right, which we definitely wanted to avoid in or out of the raft.

He then proceeded to stand up and tighten all of our life jackets and helmets. I knew this wasn’t a good sign; we all did. But at that point, I thought, I have the hang of this, down, bail, find your way out, float, get rescued, no big deal.

We approach the rapid and he starts screaming to paddle hard and fast, before he even finishes his sentence we epically flip. I managed to keep ahold of my paddle this time, but definitely tousled in some really extreme currents and waves before surfacing. I surfaced next to Susan, who I could clearly see was panicking (remember, she has a fear of the water). I grab her paddle, and grab her shoulder of her life jacket and am like, “Susan, you are ok! You are ok!”

Panicking in the water is the worst and most dangerous thing you can do. People who panic in the water tend to gasp for air (filling their lungs with water), flail, and burn up too much energy flailing, and then they drown.

When I did my SCUBA training, my instructor was a former Navy Seals Rescue diver, and was really intense to say the least. I later learned that a lot of the stuff he had us do (skills for certification) actually are NOT skills for certification, he just wanted to see how we reacted. I.e., taking our oxygen mask off without us knowing (underwater!), never doing any skills or dives in a pool (straight into the ocean!), throwing us into currents, and other crazy (and provably illegal, LOL) stuff. He constantly would scream at us, “Do you want to die?! I have seen shit you can’t even imagine!” I can still hear Allan’s booming voice, 6 years later. All 6’6 of him. However, in hindsight, I was incredibly well trained. He is the one that taught me that panic and fear in the water are the most dangerous things. He also said that a human never wins a struggle with water, so remember if stuck in anything, seaweed, fishing line, inside a cave, whatever, immediately calm yourself, stop struggling, and relax your entire body. “Kind of like a drunk person in a car crash, they survive because they go limp” he would always say. Anywho, Allan was crazy, but I got a lot of skills I am now thankful for.

Back to rafting.

Almost immediately as I grabbed Susan, we were violently forced apart. I had no idea at the time what the fuck had happened, but apparently a raft ran right into us. I lost the paddles and was turning over and over underwater and knew I was in trouble. I have spent many, many hours of my life tousling in waves, getting (intentionally) beat up and doing crazy (and probably dangerous) shit. Which is how I got stung by a stingray in Nicaragua.

So I am rolling around, and I have no idea which way is up, which is NEVER good. I remembered our guide saying we would be under for awhile, and to not panic. Then my SCUBA skills sort of kicked in and took over. I had been holding my breath, but then decided to start slowly breathing out so I could follow the bubbles, and to prevent any underwater gasping. I also at this point balled myself up (knees to chest), and almost immediately popped up. THANK GOD.

Except, no.

I surface, breathe, and see two guides on rafts standing up and screaming at me to swim left. Remember when I said he told us if we didn’t swim left we would run into a class 6 rapid? Ya, that. I suddenly remember this and then am like FUCK FUCK FUCK. So I balls to the wall just start swimming using every bit of energy and force I could muster. But for every stroke I took, I was swept even further backwards. I knew where I was being swept to.

The fucking level 6 rapids.

Without a raft.

Again, keep in mind; RAFTS don’t go down level 6 rapids. And I was headed to them WITHOUT A FUCKING RAFT.

I am immediately swept under and can tell there is a strong undercurrent, which is partly to blame for the insane fucking shit storm pickle I have found myself in.

SCUBA Allen’s voice enters my mind, and all I can hear is,

“Breathe out slowly, tuck yourself into a ball, relax. Like a drunk person in a car crash, don’t stop breathing out slowly.”

So I do exactly that.

I keep breathing out slowly. Ball myself up. And try to relax as much as is humanly [possible when knowingly about to go through an insane fucking rapid that I am not actually sure I will survive.

I of course don’t know this at the time, but all hell is breaking loose on the surface, because hello, rafter on her own, about to go down the WRONG FUCKING RAPID. MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY.

Susan later tells me everyone is screaming, but she wasn’t sure why, and it was just really confusing.

Time seemed to be at a standstill. I just kept breathing out, rolling in summersaults. Allan’s voice to keep me company. I eventually, miraculously, pop up to the surface, and I am right next to a kayak. THANK FUCKING GOD.

Except, no.

Of course no.

He grabs me, and I hang onto his bow, and he asks me my name, and if I am ok. He asks me repeatedly, so I must have not been answering. I eventually respond, and he is like wow that was scary! And then all of a sudden, it felt like the entire fucking world was exploding.

I am suddenly underwater but have no idea what in the fuck is happening. And just seconds after becoming cognizant of the fact that I am underwater, something BIG lands on me. And hard. I realize it is the kayak. A mother-fucking kayak landed on top of me.

How?

Well, I later learn, a wave come up behind us, swept up my feet, and FUCKING THREW ME OVER THE KAYAK. Through the air. I land, miraculously, between two sets of rocks, just a little bit different in either direction and I would have been immediately done.

So anyways, I am suddenly aware that I have a kayak, on top of me, and I am wedged between it and the bottom OF THE FUCKING NILE RIVER. The most literal stuck between a rock and a hard place that ever there was. What my mind can’t figure out, is why I can’t move. It also feels simultaneously like I am spinning, but I am also clearly pinned.

Again, Allan’s voice enters my mind. “No human has ever won a struggle with water. Relax, like a drunk person in a car accident. Keep breathing. Don’t open your mouth.”

It becomes a mantra in my mind. The kayak starts to slap me into the rock bottom, as if we were getting pelted with something.

BAM.

BAM.

BAM.

Me, against the rocky bottom, getting pummelled by a kayak, pinned there. I am completely flat on the bottom, getting beaten with this kayak.

It was probably the oddest sensation that has ever come over me. I got very, very calm. And very logical. It was like someone else was directing my every move.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

KIMBERLY COVER YOUR FUCKING FACE.

KIMBERLY, RELAX, LIKE A DRUNK PERSON IN A CAR ACCIDENT.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

KEEP BREATHING, DON’T PANIC.

DON’T TAKE A BREATH. DON’T TAKE A BREATH.

RELAX. RELAX. RELAX.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

KEEP BREATHING OUT.

And then, I realize, I am going to die down here.

I can’t get up.

I am running out of oxygen.

I am going to die. This is where it all ends. At the bottom of the god damn Nile River.

I get very, very calm. And then I think, I am never going to get married.

And suddenly:

KIMBERLY GET THE FUCK UP! MOVE YOUR BODY! GET UP OUT OF HERE!

GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!

OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES AND FOLLOW THE GOD DAMN BUBBLES!

So I did.

I don’t know how I did it, but I opened my eyes, rolled myself over (or a wave did?) I grabbed the kayak and pulled myself up.

SURFACE!

THANK GOD!

Except, no.

It is never easy with me, is it?

All I can think of is my lungs are full of air again. But I am suddenly smashed under the water again. But I immediately bob back up. All I can think about is that at least I am buying time getting more air.

I can feel something smashing my helmet, but it doesn’t particularly hurt. I think it must be rocks, but then my incredibly logical brain at that moment was like, that isn’t a rock, because you are breathing when it happens.

I later learn it was the kayaker’s paddle. He didn’t realize he was hitting me, and was trying to get out of the rapids.

I finally surface enough to be able to see the kayaker, and I grab his life jacket.  He finally realizes what is happening and pulls me out and slings me over the front of the kayak, one handed.

How? No fucking clue.

The human body is capable of miracoulsou physical feats when it has to.

I am hanging out on the bow, just focusing on breathing.

He looks at me and starts asking me my name. Over and over.

I don't’ respond.

Instead, I put my hand to my chin, and say, “My chin is bleeding.”

He tells me to stay with him.

I then try to take my helmet off. He grabs my hand and tells me to not take it off.

I later realize I was experiencing incredible shock. When you hear about people stuck in the mountains doing crazy shit like taking off their clothes? Ya, that was me. Except in the Nile River.

He says something to me. I again say my chin is bleeding

Then he asks where I am from. I tell him Kenya.

What?!!?!

He then tells me he is from Canada and to just hang on and keep looking at him and don’t let go.

I have no memory from that moment to getting pulled into the boat. I wasn’t unconscious; I just think I blacked out from severe trauma and shock.

I get up to the raft. I suddenly come to and think, “Was that really that scary, or did I just think it was?”

I look up and see everyone’s faces and realize:

Yes, that was epically fucked up.

One of the women on the boat is holding her hands over her face. Another guy is standing looking like someone was just shot. My guide looks similarly distressed.

I realize they are looking at me.

I am plucked from the water by my guide.

He grabs my life jacket, asks if I am ok.

I say, “My chin is bleeding.”

He says something, I don’t remember.

I look down, my knees are also bloody.

He looks at me and says, “You’re the SCUBA diver, right?” I say yes, and he says, “Thank your instructor, he just saved your life.”

He then asks if I want water, and I tell him that I don’t think it will help my chin.

LOL.

Except not.

People are asking me questions and telling me to do things but I am processing zero of it. I think I have water in my ears, because everyone sounds a million miles away, yet right next to me. I later realize I was definitely in major clinical shock.

One of the members of my boat hands me my long lost paddle, and the guide says, “She can’t paddle right now, she is in shock. Get the rescue boat.”

We eventually meet up with Susan, who was picked up by the rescue boat. She later tells me I was just sitting there staring off into space, unresponsive.

After a few minutes, I become cognizant of the fact that:

I almost died.

I just actually almost literally died.

I should be dead.

How the fuck did I get out of that?

Upon further reflection later, I realize that had it not been for my SCUBA training, I am most certain that I would have 1) either needed CPR or 2) been dead. I then understood what the guide meant when he told me to thank my instructor. I never panicked, I never chocked on water. Allan just kept telling me in my mind to relax and breathe out slowly and to not stop.

The guide and two others in my boat who saw this all going down later explain what happened:

The boat hit us, and Susan and I were violently pulled apart. I tried swimming, current was too strong, so I am washed down level 6 rapids. There is a brief reprieve (when I surfaced and found the kayaker), and then apparently he and I dropped into a “hole”. It is effectively a false part of the surface, which looks solid, but really has a whirlpool beneath it. The kayaker I found was from Canada and not familiar with the area. When my guide was explaining, he was like, “As soon as I saw you guys headed for the hole, I knew you were fucked, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It swallowed you and the kayak whole.” Why I was pinned was because we were in this whirlpool, and the kayak couldn’t get out of it, and because he didn’t move, I couldn’t move. His kayaker friend later told us that his paddle wasn’t even touching the water; it was like he was surfing. He also said a similar thing, that he could see what was happening, but couldn’t get to us to help us. He later said, “That looked really fucking gnarly.”

Well, that is one way of putting it!

The guide was like, “You should have seen the kayakers face, I think he was more scared than you!” I was like, that was because you couldn’t see my face, because

I WAS FUCKING DROWNING.

I was really messed up all day from it. We had a lunch afterwards and I even drank a beer. Because I needed alcohol. I HATE beer. I couldn’t really eat. I was still shaking.

I just kept thinking, I literally shouldn’t be alive right now.

One of the women was like, “It probably felt like forever, but was probably like three seconds.” The guide was like, “No, she was down a long time. I started counting how long she had been down after awhile, and it was at least 15-20 seconds from when I started counting.”

When we were leaving, a few people had left sunscreens, and another guide was holding them up. One of them was mine, but I wasn’t processing. I finally realized and the other guide made a joke about dumb Americans, and my guide, very quietly said to him, “That is the girl who almost died.”

That is the girl who almost died.

It was a full circle moment of like, yep. I almost died. I didn’t just make that up in my head.

The girl who almost died.

On a positive note, my guide also told me that I should get a trophy for two things:

1)   Making up a new sport: Kayak-surfing-flying

AND

2)   For having the distinction of the new scariest story of anything that has ever happened to any of his clients on his raft.

Well, at least there is that.

This trip, I have:

1)   Gone through a 5-day insane vomiting sickness

2)   Had to change my flight for the first time ever due to item 1.

3)   Survived a 5.7 earthquake

4)   Survived our building getting struck by lighting

5)   Rescued kittens

6)   Survived the Nile. Barely.

While we were eating, Susan is like; I think it is time for you to go home.

Ain't that the truth.

Dear universe,

If you could get me through the next 6 days, intact, free from bodily harm, natural disasters, or other generally fucked up shit, I would greatly appreciate it.

Oh, and if it isn’t too much to ask, if you could also extend that to my wedding next month, that would be fantastic.

Sincerely,

Kimberly

All in all, I am surprisingly intact. I have a gash and huge bump (and developing bruise) on my chin and other bruises and bumps all along my jaw. I am actually surprised and thankful my jaw didn't break, I definitely have some deep bone bruises. My knees are badly bruised and gashed, and I have burst blood vessels and cuts in lots of places on my body from slamming into all the things. Moving is definitely painful, but miraculously nothing is broken.

Like a drunk person in a car crash.

Feeling very thankful to be alive, and reconsidering some of my extracurricular activities.