The Morning After

02: Chapter from the novel "In The Wake Of Chaos"

[This is Chapter 2 of my novel, “In The Wake Of Chaos.” I encourage you to read the front matter, intro and chapter previously posted first to get the full richness of this magical story.]

“falling in the abyss of despair...”

After what felt like minutes later, my iPhone’s alarm rudely went off. Not that early mind you, but after a night like the last one, I didn’t welcome that buzzer sound. Barely time to shower, pack my bags, check-out of my suite, and then be off to Fort Sam Houston to finish up the military piece I’d been working on from yesterday.

Was that just yesterday? Feels like a lifetime ago.

The story seems so insignificant now that the walls of the world around me seem to be crashing down. And, not in a good way like the Berlin Wall of years past.

Grabbing a bagel to go on the way out, I glanced at the television monitor in the hotel café.

Yep, it’s a wrap.

My worst nightmare.

Sadly, last night wasn’t a bad dream after all. We the people have actually elected the man famous for saying, “You’re Fired!” into the f’ing White House!!

Are you kidding me?

I can hardly imagine how many times we’ll hear that phrase in the coming weeks and months and years ahead. May God give me the strength to carry on.

Getting an Uber to the base, I finally take a much needed deep, deep breath. Here’s to my fellow American’s stepping into unknown territory right alongside of me.

God help us all.

Pretty please?

When I arrived at Fort Sam, everything looked the same. No disasters. No despair. And yet, everything seemed different. That piqued my interest.

I wonder how many others were feeling like me.

Stopping by the reception counter, I was again directed to a conference room where my final interview was already waiting for my arrival. One thing about the military, they’re always punctual—that’s for sure.

Taking a seat across from where Lieutenant Lillian Grant was sitting, I discretely lowered my gaze while taking my notepad and voice recorder out of my handbag. Was I imagining this? Or were her eyes almost as puffy as mine?

Get a grip girl and focus on the reason you’re here.

Surely, not everyone is as devastated as you are.

Introducing myself, I found an immediate bond. Her distressed look confirmed my initial suspicions. We were kindred souls suffering in tortured silence.

As we discussed the grand opening of their new USO facility—which I might add is an awesome resource that offers military members and their families cooking classes, yoga, and wellness programs, and a state-of-the-art fitness center—I paused for a minute before asking Lieutenant Grant a more personal question.

“What do you think about last night’s results?”

I could see a flicker of pain return in her expression and a cautious pause. Did we share the same values and beliefs?

Maybe so, but who really knows. I sensed a slight hesitancy in responding to my question.

Trying to alleviate her fears, I continued by saying, “this has nothing to do with the interview, but I’m having a hard time accepting what just happened last night. I didn’t see this one coming…not at all.”

Lillian appeared to relax as her shoulders dropped just a little bit. “I couldn’t agree more.”

She continued, “But, with all I’ve seen over the years inside the corridors of our government, I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

It was as if the floodgates of cautious restraint burst wide open as she proceeded to tell me more.

Lieutenant Grant explained how she’d witnessed good people get swallowed up in the politics of power and control. Some immediately, while others somehow seemed to stay out of the fray for longer periods of time.

She considered herself lucky since she had a strong partner who kept her in check and with her morals intact.

We got sidetracked a little as we discussed the behind-the-scenes aspects of how the military must deal with different administrations and different personalities in the White House. But what she fears might be on the horizon these next four years, is something neither one of us cared to contemplate right now.

The wound was a bit too fresh.

I felt a chilling sense of darkness faling over us both. Eventually, we got back to my assignment and wrapped up what was still needed to complete the article.

Then, as we walked past the front reception desk on my way out of the building, Lieutenant Grant gently touched my arm to hold up for a second, and with a bit of distress in her eyes asked if we could stay in touch.

“Of course,” I said reassuringly.

“It’d be nice to have a shoulder to cry on if this gets much worse.” We both smiled with silent resignation, knowing exactly what was being said between the lines.

As we exchanged phone numbers, she mentioned that lucky for me, Private Hanson, who I’d met at the base the day before, was heading over to the airport. He had to pick someone up and was happy to give me a lift.

With pleasure, I accepted.

On the ride there, he told me he had great admiration for Lieutenant Grant. He also expressed just how much she knew her way around the powers that be, so if there’s anything I needed to know or anyone else I needed to reach, she was the one to get it done.

That’s good to know.

Fifteen minutes later, we were at the terminal and I was off and running to make my flight. So much had happened in the past 24 hours, it would be nice to catch my breath and get a little shuteye on the plane ride home.

Sheer exhaustion was setting in.

And unfortunately, until they closed my gate, and I was safely settled with my seatbelt on, I’d have to endure the endless airport TV monitors—ones that seemed to only mock me with repeated reminders of the triumphant win President-elect Trump and his team had just achieved.

Who would have ever guessed?

Honestly, it appears no one is more surprised about this than Donald Trump himself. He just pulled off the shock of the century, and now we’ll have to wait and see what this means once the dust has had a chance to settle.

In the meantime, all I wanted to do was close my eyes, to get some much-needed sleep.

And, dream it didn’t happen.

Fat chance.

Unfortunately, when I arrived at my gate, the monitor board was flashing a “Delayed” notification.

Seriously?

Could it get any worse?

Weather issues around Dulles Airport apparently, and it looks like at least a one-hour delay. Someone please put me out of my misery and turn off these TV’s that keep showing the huge upset Trump enjoyed last night—with the updated election results on a loop.

Just shoot me now.

Mindlessly sitting in the one open chair I could find, I began scrolling through my text messages and emails.

One from my boss. Several from Allison, my college roommate at Georgetown, who, Lord help us all, lent a hand to navigate the ins and outs of a Catholic institutional experience. Also, there were several texts from my mom. Bless her heart, she just wanted to make sure I was okay knowing how much I wanted to see Hillary get elected as President of the United States.

I decided to call her first. Seriously, who wouldn’t want a little motherly love right about now?

“Hello?”

Still using an ancient phone, she had no idea who was calling her. “Mom, it’s me…” and immediately I was cut off with, “Oh, honey. You must be in shock. I certainly am. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Did you see his smug look when Hillary conceded the election?”

And then wait for it, she added, “What an ass. Oh, and his kids. Such a bunch of spoiled brats. I can’t believe this actually happened. I cried all night. This is terrible. I can’t believe it’s true.”

To tell you honestly, she might have gone on for 20 minutes or so, I have no idea since I felt numb and could barely get in an “uh huh” here or there.

“But, Hillary’s concession speech today was classy. How devastated she must be. Did you know he’s already been invited by Obama to meet with him at the White House on Thursday?”

My mom kept rattling on.

As such, I found my always present journalist mind pulling me towards the newsworthy facts.

Yes, Trump shattered all expectations with an election victory that reveals a very deep anti-establishment anger among American voters. And by doing so, sets the entire world into a political unknown.

Yes, after early surprise victories in Florida, North Carolina, and Ohio, it then fell on the shoulders of the industrial Midwest rust belt states to determine the eventual results of this stunning upset.

Yes, both Wisconsin and Michigan, two states hit hard by a decline in manufacturing jobs—and lost by Clinton to Bernie Sanders in the Democratic primary—had Trump leading as the race headed for an early morning cliffhanger.

But my feeble attempts to make sense of all this did not help. Mom and I went on for a while longer, then agreed to touch base again in the morning. We gave each other a much-needed radio wave hug, cell tower to cell tower, and I took another deep breath once we got off the phone.

Sigh.

The remaining messages will just have to wait. My unstable emotions and the non-stop chaos were giving me a massive headache. Best to close my eyes and listen to iTunes instead. I’d better set an alarm first, so I don’t risk falling asleep and missing my flight home.

Though drifting thoughts still ran through my head. I remembered the distress in Lillian’s eyes. You could tell there was more she wanted to say, but didn’t or wouldn’t.

At least not just yet.

What did she want to divulge?

My overactive imagination took over.

In her high-ranking position, I’m sure Lieutenant Grant has witnessed some fairly mind-blowing, behind closed doors activity and probably wants to confide in someone from the outside civilian world.

But to an investigative reporter?

It’s probably not wise to share top-secret military intel with me, is it? Or perhaps it is. Maybe she’s one of those anonymous whistle-blowers we often hear about.

She might be looking for an ally.

I didn’t realize it at that moment, but this imaginary wandering might not be all that far from the truth.

Minutes before I’d set the alarm to go off, my boss at The Post called. Getting irritated, I let it go to voicemail.

Larry Nelson, although initially impressed with his Ivy League good looks, was pretty much a dick. Not in a come-on sort of way, nothing like that, but he certainly lacked character and a level of integrity for sure.

I can hear my mom saying it now, “Maddie, you’re never gonna meet Mr. Right if you keep your standards so high!”

Really?

What the heck is that about.

Isn’t my mother supposed to want the best for her little girl? Shouldn’t she praise my ideals in not settling for less than a man of good character? If I’m going to commit myself, and I mean all of me to another man, he better damn sure be a person I can count on.

Someone who knows right from wrong. Someone who cares more about others than he does for himself.

Not that I want a people pleaser type who’s always trying to make everyone else happy—even at his own expense. No. That’d be an irritating pain in the ass for sure.

Instead, I’d want to spend quality time with someone strong in knowing who he is, what he is capable of doing—and one who will always take the high road when it comes to honoring others and treating them with kindness.

We wouldn’t always have to agree, but he must have integrity and hold the people around him in high regard. That did not by any stretch of the imagination describe my ivy-league, full of himself, boss.

Sorry Mom.

No, Larry, besides being a womanizer, was more like a successful money-driven workaholic who will do whatever is necessary to stay at the top of his game.

Bend the truth? If it gets him what he wants. Manipulate his sources? If that’s what it takes. Ask your reporters to lie to get the truth? No problem. What an oxymoron that is.

Lie to get the truth.

Lord, what am I doing working for someone like that? If I didn’t love my career so much, I’d never put up with someone like him. Just like those I’ve dated in the past. If he didn’t measure up to what I wanted in a guy, forget him.

Who has time to mess around and settle for less?

Then why was I doing that now for this dream job of mine? Well, I figure it’s worth it to get my career going. And you know the old saying, “Beggars can’t be choosy!”

Or can they?

Precisely what I’ve struggled with since ditching my degree in Journalism to jump-start my career. Part of me knows I deserve better. And that nothing—no job, career, or unscrupulous boss—should get in the way of me holding true to my core values.

Period.

Yet, here I am, working for a dickhead.

His call can wait.

I’m not at all ready to deal with his opinionated demands. Can’t you see I’m in mourning right now? Fire me if needed, and put me out of my misery once and for all.

Thankfully, it’s time to board my plane. Considering the fact, I only endured what ended up being a 90-minute flight delay, I guess I’m lucky. After the three and a half hours to Dulles and a 30-minute Metro ride from there, I might be safely in my bed before 2:00 a.m.

No sweat.

Text to boss man Larry, “Boarding my plane right now. Will touch base in the morning.” Now, if I had only brought a trash novel to distract me inflight, maybe I could forget how sad I am. But wait. Can’t forget about Allie.

Shooting off a quick text (((hug))) to her saying I’ll call in the morning, I finally managed to board the plane. She’s such a dear friend—and one I can count on. Thank God I got paired up with her for my first-year freshman dorm experience. Someone or something was watching over me. And, sometimes things happen that can’t be explained.

Originally, I’d wanted to get a place off-campus to be by myself, but that’s not encouraged. And, for good reason. Many can have challenges during their first year at college. New environment. New teachers. No lifeline support from your own family. Best friends deciding to attend to school across the nation and on the opposite coasts. So many changes and the prospect of having a person I didn’t even know sleeping in the same room?

No thank you. It just didn’t seem very appealing to me at all. Enter Allison Carmichael. She had an East Coast kinda vibe, but thank God, was unpretentious, which suited me just fine. In high school, I enjoyed friends from all sorts of groups, but mainly hung around my guy friends. To me the girls always seemed to have too much drama going on for my liking. I’m a no drama kind of person.

So, when I was blessed to be assigned Allison as a college roommate, all I could do but breathe a deep sigh of relief. As fate would have it, we became fast friends.

Allison grew up in Boston and had dozens of extended family members nearby. Many a weekend we’d go up to Concord to spend time with her grandma—and to walk in the woods near the storied Walden Pond.

It was there that she and I discovered our shared love for anything written by author, poet, philosopher, and transcendentalist, Henry David Thoreau. And to spend time in the area where he lived, and where he wrote such words of wisdom considered by many to be his best work?

Well, that’s heaven on earth.

It was on one such trip that I discovered a rare copy of his book, Walden, which was later coined by the two of us as the “Thoreau Code.” Line by line, word by word, there are many pearls of wisdom contained within this literary gem:

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws will be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings.”

On the surface it may not make sense, but Allie and I spent countless hours digging into the deeper meaning of what this passage meant. Not the least of which is the part that says, “will pass an invisible boundary” where new laws of nature begin to establish themselves.

Other than journalism, I love anything that reaches into the unknown and challenges what we think we know about science and the nature of how this universe works.

Einstein was thought to have said,

“Everything is energy!”

And, this is one of the ideas I love diving into. What this apparently means is that the vibration, or frequency, of one thing is different from another—and is what determines how dense that thing becomes. A brick wall for instance has more density and vibrates at a slower frequency than air. Simple, yet profound when you consider everything.

What if we could better understand this and control our own vibrational frequencies, so in theory we too could pass these invisible boundaries Thoreau was talking about?

Those are the kind of rabbit holes I love to fall into.

It’s also said we can create our own reality through the power of our mind—and intentionally choose the life we want to live in by way of visualizing it.

I believed this to be true.  

Or at least I used to—until last night.

That was when I was curled up like a baby sobbing my eyes out, once I saw the writing on the wall as to who was going to win the election.

It was in that moment I began beating myself up.

The thought running through my mind was, “I’m such a failure. Never would I consciously choose to live in a world where Donald Trump is our president. No way, not a chance. I’d choose to live in an alternate reality.”

So, what the hell happened?

After years of playing with these principles and believing I was the one choosing my own path and rising above the normal everyday circumstances of regular life, it appears obvious, I’ve come up short. Way short.

When it really counted, I had ultimately failed.

I heard an interesting phrase the other day during an interview. Intoxicating rage. My first thought was, “well, that’s an interesting concept.”

Now, I think I’m beginning to embody that.

What is wrong with me? How can I be so weak, so inept at controlling my emotions? Rage. It is boiling under the surface. It is becoming my new normal. My default emotion.

Guess that’s what follows shock, right?

In the same interview, they said rage was temporary and unsustainable. But, if used correctly and efficiently, it could transform into building something more long term.

A catalyst of sorts. I’m not sure in this moment which way I’ll go. Will I hold onto my rage, or will I let it nudge me in a particular direction.

Time will tell.

Right now, I’m just getting mad as hell at me, for not being better at choosing my own reality—and at the world for letting this kind of thing happen.

Really?

We eventually learn, when all is said and done, Hillary Clinton receives nearly 2.9 million more votes than President-elect Donald Trump. That’s almost three million people whose voices were basically ignored!

Again, really?

Can we kill the Electoral College already?

The winner should be the one who gets the most votes.

One person = One vote.

Period!

As the plane began picking up speed at full throttle down the runway, and just before its wheels lifted above the ground, I made a vow to myself then and there.

Never again will I fail at something so important. Never again will I indulge myself in this fit of rage and sorrow. Never again will I choose to feel the way I do now.

Tomorrow’s another day, and after a few pain relievers and a decent night of sleep, conceivably this throbbing head will finally settle down.

And, maybe, just maybe…

I’ll be able to find the light at the end of the tunnel.

Can’t see it now.

Perhaps I should grab a flashlight.

Just in case.

“My sweet dove, I am here with you. Wait and see as this all unfolds, as I believe you will be quite happy and actually thrilled at what your humanity is at the brink of. Yes, I know of your concerns and your sadness, but from this higher perspective, there is much more to see in the works and at play here.” 

– a message from Y’shua

[Continue reading Maddie’s complete story “In The Wake Of Chaos” as each chapter is released…see the “Previous” & “Next” tabs right under the Like/Share bubbles below]