Nadine J Walters – My Life

Question for myself: What are you thinking about this morning?

Answer:
This morning, I’m not just thinking—I’m feeling a deep sadness and a sense of despair over what is happening here in the United States and to our democracy.

I’ve usually avoided writing about politics on this blog. I’ve tried to keep this space focused on daily life, reflections on living, and maybe holding on to a little of the innocence and idealism of my youth.

But today, I just can’t do that.

I feel frightened. I feel disheartened. I feel disappointed in the direction this country has taken over the past decade. The hateful attitudes and divisive beliefs have always existed, but there was once a shared sense of decency—a kind of social restraint—that kept the worst of it in check. People used to care what their neighbors thought. More than that, people used to care about their neighbors.

I’m fortunate to have kind neighbors, dear friends, and good people in my life, but open conversation about politics and values has become almost impossible. I remember when we could disagree—passionately even—and still stay connected. Back in my twenties and thirties, political discussion was part of daily life, part of growing up, part of our relationships. Now, where I live, it’s something you simply don’t risk.

This morning, I read an article by Tufts doctoral student Rümeysa Öztürk about her time in an ICE detention center in Louisiana. What she endured—and what so many others continue to endure—is deeply, profoundly wrong.

And that’s just one example. The cruelty of immigration raids. The rising disregard for women’s rights. Tariffs that damage the economy. The dismantling of essential government agencies. The assault on public lands and environmental protections. The ugliness in not just our political discourse but interactions on all fronts. It’s all wrong. Morally, ethically, and humanely wrong. And it seems like the list never ends.

As you can tell, I’m struggling to hold on to hope. I march, I donate, I speak out when I can. But sometimes this country feels foreign to me—like a place I no longer recognize. It’s not the America I grew up in. Not the one I believed in. It feels like we’re slowly sliding into a darker place, and I honestly don’t know where it ends—or what the forces leading us there truly intend.

What I do know is this: we are all human. We all have dreams. We all work hard. We all deserve dignity, respect, and equality. That should never be a radical belief—but somehow, in this moment, it feels like it is. Whatever happened to basic human kindness?

So that’s where I am this morning. Sad, heavy-hearted, but still holding on to the belief that kindness, truth, and justice matter—and that they are something I will continue fighting for.