And this time, I was enjoying myself as usual, until the subject of politics came up. They're all Republicans. I'm not. That in itself isn't a problem; surely, we're not the only family with a political black sheep. I'm ashamed to admit, though, that I don't handle political discussion very well. In fact, you can't even call it a discussion when I'm involved. Someone nearby starts criticizing Obama, or saying that Bush's win in 2004 was a good thing, and I go into system overload. My pulse races, the faculties for speech and reason disappear, and I get weird throbbing sensations behind my eyes. I imagine it's some distant cousin of a panic attack, and it isn't pleasant.
I've been able to bullshit my way through these family discussions in the past, mainly because we can all agree on wishing McCain had beaten Bush in 2000. But any affection I had for McCain is all but gone now, and their dislike for Obama has killed any remaining opportunity for common ground. So I tried to redirect the course of conversation. “Hey, guys, let's not talk about politics, it's my birthday”, I joked, trying to project a levity I wasn't feeling. It got a few laughs, so I guess it worked. But conversations have momentum, especially in large groups, and this one wasn't about to be diverted. As it continued on, someone said “I'm not really [either party affiliation], I just really hated John Kerry”, and my festering wounds from four years ago flared back to life. “Ok, now we really have to stop”, I said, and I don't know if anyone else heard the edge of panic in my voice, but I did. I don't remember exactly what came next; I think it was a comment about Obama making military cuts, or hurting the economy (seriously, what?), but I can't say for sure.
When I was a kid, the system overload thing usually ended with me punching somebody, but I'm long past the age when that was acceptable (likely, it never was). Everyone has to find an outlet for their anger. Some turn it outward; they scream and yell, or say hurtful things, or channel it into some constructive energy (I assume these lucky people exist). I'm in the other camp; all that anger stays inside, eats away at me, and gets channeled into destructive behavior.
So I excused myself from the table (with a laugh and what I hope was a minimum of drama), walked outside, and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. It really shouldn't be like this. I should be able to explain, calmly and eloquently, my thoughts on politics. But I just don't have that ability anymore. I walked back into the restaurant, smiled sheepishly as I sat down, and hoped no one would say anything about it.
Maybe I would be better off if I hadn't made Bush my own personal bogeyman. I've hated him since the 2000 Republican Primary, and the “So Glad I Voted for Bush!” bumper-sticker years after 9/11 took a heavy toll on me. After five years in Iraq, a painful 2004 campaign, and plenty of executive branch scandals, Bush to me now represents everything I hate about politics in this country. I've lost all sense of proportion and rationality when it comes to him. I can't speak calmly about this.
And I sure as hell can't explain it to my family. Even if I seem like a over-reacting weirdo when I storm out of the room. And not even if I would feel like a healthier, better person if I could explain it.
***
Footnote: I'm not saying you had to like Kerry. But you hated him, and liked Bush? Because you consider Bush a good person? It boggles my mind.
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