Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter about navigating our modern culture and staying sane in the process. This week, I’ve been thinking about the midterm. I see the writing on the wall. We have time to fix it, but we have to act now.
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There was a time not too long ago that I didn’t know much about the political world at all. I had checked out from the political process. I had four young daughters, and my days were consumed with raising them. The closest I got to politics was voting in the presidential general election every four years, only to be disappointed when Barack Obama won twice. Then 2015 happened, and Donald Trump rode down those golden escalators. Simultaneously, I was given a spreadsheet on the new sex education curriculum at our local elementary school. My oldest daughter was the only one in school at the time, and although we sent her to private school, I knew it wouldn’t be long before this material made its way to her.
I didn’t know at the time that what I was reading in that pamphlet was transgender and far-left sex ideologies, but I knew it was insidious. It was the moment I began to wake up to the realization that, while I didn’t care about politics and the culture wars, they cared about my children and me.
I watched Trump’s 2016 campaign religiously. I didn’t vote in the primary that year because I still didn’t realize what was at stake, but by November, after school drop-off, I took my three younger daughters and waited over an hour in line to cast my vote for Trump. He spoke to my soul.
Trump called the Bushs out to their faces for being frauds and for the disastrous global wars they pushed on our country. He talked about how the establishment had sold out American workers when they made it acceptable to move major manufacturing hubs out of the country for cheaper labor. He promised to do something about illegal immigration and the crisis Obama had let fester at our southern border. Everything we had been talking about for years around the dinner table had become a major component in his campaign.
The night of the election, I couldn’t sleep. I was glued to the election results. Every poll indicated that we didn’t stand a chance. Hillary Clinton would become our president whether we liked it or not. Still, something inside me felt that it wasn’t over and that Trump would win. And he did.
For the next eight years, I defended him to my friends and family who demonized his governance. I was called every name in the book for my support. I lost people I loved because I refused to give in to the mainstream narratives about him. When he was almost assassinated in 2024, I knew he’d win. Biden had ruined our country, and Kamala admitted she’d be a continuation of his governance. The stars were aligning again. We had another shot to reclaim our country.
As we approach the midterms, it’s becoming increasingly clear to me that controlling the wild monster that is our federal bureaucracy is harder than anyone could imagine. The moment we cut the head off one snake, three more show up.