So, hello again.  Welcome to the week where daylight savings ended and Donald Trump was re-elected as president within a few days of each other.  I have said for years that the week after daylight savings is the Autistic depression apocalypse,  but this was one for the record books. 

 

First of all, I will not sugarcoat, and this will not be a newsletter of toxic positivity. And it will not be brief: I don't know how to wrap this into a succinct message, and I'm not sure I should.  It's a mess. We're a mess. And I'm a mess too.  If you're wondering how I could possibly relate this mess to Autism and/or therapy…. hold my 3 beverages.

 

If you had asked me what the hardest thing I've dealt with as a therapist prior to this week, it would be a day or a week where one client of mine was dealing with something terrifying, unsafe, unfair, or awful.  This is part of the job. And for those of us who are Autistic, and have hyper-empathy, it's our least favorite part of the job. We. Feel. Everything.  And sometimes it's not just one person who's hurting.  It has been: sitting in a room of teens who lost a friend to a tragic death, holding a kiddo who just found out their parent died, sitting with a parent after their son became paralyzed, having to tell little kids that DSS isn't going to keep them safe, learning that adults who hurt and traumatized my kiddo clients would walk free with no punishment...the list goes on and on. I'm no rookie when it comes to sitting with tough things. Therapists learn to take care of ourselves so we can help take care of others. 

 

Why was this week worse than all of those things?  The core of why this week was awful was that I was experiencing my own fear following the election intensely and it had everything to do with my Autistic brain.  When my brain thinks about a topic, it effortlessly “rolodexes” to any experience I've had with that topic.  So when you talk about trans rights, my brain remembers the first time my trans student told me they were being tormented by one of their teachers.  And how it felt for them, (and me) when the school I worked for said there was “nothing they could do” to protect them. When we talk about abortion rights, I think about the kid I worked with who was beaten severely when a teacher outed their pregnancy to their abusive parent.  The pregnancy that was caused by an act of sexual violence.  I think of kids who I work with RIGHT NOW that are hurting over and over due to peers who are emboldened to call them horrific names, embarrass them, and use technology to bully them 24/7 due to their gender and sexuality.  If the president can do it, the hate trickles down. I think of students who were Autistic and having a meltdown.  Students who were tackled and restrained IN SCHOOLS because they were stereotyped by race and the fact that they were “wearing a hoodie, looking suspicious.”  I think of clients this week who said, “I'm not shocked.  This country has never protected me or my family.”  The list goes on and on. 

 

I understand that 50% of our country voted differently than my family.  I get that. I have tried to understand that perspective for months.  For me, I am unable to elevate any other issue above the safety and wellbeing of all the people in our country.  And my Autistic brain is completely unable to stop “rolodexing” all the hurt I have witnessed in my career.  These issues come to my office all day everyday, they touch my family, they touch my friends, and me.  

 

My husband shared a story with me from before we met.  He had to deliver the news to a coworker that their partner died.  He remembered the pain, the screams, the raw emotion, the helplessness he felt in that moment.  He said he would never forget it.  In his line of work, that is not a common task he encounters.  Therapists sign up for jobs like that each and every day.  And we are honored to be the ones who you trust to sit with your darkest moments.  So for me, I can't pretend that those moments aren't guiding each and every decision I make.  And I decided this week to be honest with all of you about that, because I think that is more important than the rules of self-disclosure right now.  I can't help but wonder if those who have less experience with people who are hurt by our politics would they feel differently if they were sitting with people in pain?  Would they do more if they knew more?  Would they find empathy like my husband did for what it means to be on the front lines of hurt?

 

Many of us are shocked, confused, and feeling a new level of hopelessness. The collective grief, fear, and disappointment in the air have been palpable. It’s not just one client, one family, or one community hurting—it’s nearly everyone I saw this week, encountered, talked to, and worried about…all at once. And that weight doesn’t just sit in the room during sessions; it lingers with me long after.

 

This is a uniquely painful time to be human, to be a therapist, and to be part of a marginalized community that feels so vulnerable right now. If you’re feeling like you can’t shake the exhaustion or find your usual sources of comfort, you’re not alone. This is more than just a tough week; this is about feeling safe in our own skin, feeling understood in a world that often doesn’t understand, and trying to process the relentless challenges and what-ifs.

 

In moments like these, it’s essential to lean into what does help, even if just a little. My heart is with every one of you who might be struggling to get through the day, to feel hopeful, or to focus on what’s next. Take things one step at a time, and give yourself permission to grieve, to be angry, or to simply be. For those of us who have weathered storms before, this one feels different, and it’s okay to feel different about it. 

 

I listened to the “We Can Do Hard Things” podcast the day the results came out. They compared the state of our country to that of a toxic relationship…where we are trying to see the potential, trying to have hope that things will get better, trying to stay, trying to cover it up, but the reality of what is, and what is happening right now is something that can't be ignored.  I think so many of us want our country to be better, less hateful, more accepting, safer, and hopeful.  But that's not where we are.  And if you have a history of unpredictable fear, big T trauma, being worried about your safety, or afraid to be different…is it any shock that this feels much bigger than “the election didn't go my way.”  This isn't about politics for so many of my clients and my family, it's about safety.  

 

Please remember, though, that we are still a community—a messy, beautiful, imperfect one. And in my virtual office, your feelings are valid, your fears are shared, and your needs are important. I will never push my values on anyone.  You are safe in my office no matter what you believe, always.  If you need support, reach out, and know that I’m here, navigating this right alongside you. We don’t have to fix this mess alone, but together we can try to help each other.

Below this, you will see words from Brene' Brown on despair and hope.  I absolutely love her idea of “micro-dosing hope." I felt this right along with all of you, this week. Little bits of hope in the emails I received from those of you who were checking in, in the moments of snotting together on our couches, in the much needed laughs along the way. But more than anything, I was ROCKED with hope when I heard how many of you have already sprung into action and helping in your own ways.

 

For this newsletter, I will include a few things here that made my heavy heart come up for air.  If it helps you too, super.  If not…we'll keep trying.  If this newsletter makes you feel uncomfortable, that is not my intention.  It feels important to me to be transparent, and authentic in all of the places where I show up.  

 

Warmly,

Kory

As per usual, Brene' Brown combined her big brain full of research with all the feels and gave us some data on despair.  

Thanks Brene' for this. 

Here are 8 reasons why this election season is especially challenging for Autistic brains. Please share this with your Neurospicy friends! 

1. Lack of Predictability 🌀 – This election brings huge unknowns, with outcomes that directly impact key areas like safety, health, and financial stability. When everything feels uncertain, it disrupts a need for consistency.
2. Loss of Control 🔒 – Watching something so pivotal unfold without any personal control can be overwhelming. Decisions that profoundly affect lives are made by others, leading to a heightened sense of vulnerability. (THIS IS NOT AN IRRATIONAL FEAR...we've been here before!)
3. Justice & Fairness Issues ⚖️ – Many Autistic people hold a deep sense of justice, and elections often spotlight unfairness . Seeing unacceptable behavior that is contrary to your values can feel especially raw.
4. Perspective-Taking Confusion 🤔 – Navigating others’ perspectives is challenging when so much of it is illogical. The election demands empathy for viewpoints that are inconsistent and harmful, which doesn’t sit well with Autistic logic.
5. Black & White Thinking 🖤🤍 – Understanding why things are as they are is hard when many systems feel fundamentally broken. For some, seeing the gray areas in this process can feel impossible and deeply frustrating. Safety and personal rights are areas that can't be grey.
6. Hyper Empathy 💔 – With hyper-empathy, emotions can be so powerful they become paralyzing. Autistic people often feel intense empathy for groups facing discrimination or fear, making this election a direct, personal threat.
7. Communication Barriers 🗣️ – It’s not always easy to talk openly about fears, especially when communication itself can be challenging. For some, discussing complex political emotions might not feel safe or achievable.
8. Chronic Anxiety 😓 – Anxiety already adds weight to everyday activities, and during elections, it can become all-encompassing. The constant noise of political ads, debates, and discussions amplifies anxiety, making daily life even harder. If you're like me, it is really hard to put this down, stop scrolling, or disengage.