Coming out as a Republican in a very Democratic part of the country has changed my life in one big way: I no longer have any friends. Well, I have distant friends who I stay in contact with via Zoom and texts, but I lack friends to "hang out" with in the flesh, except for one in particular who is more of an angel than a human and does not let politics run her life. But others -- women I'd meet up with for walks or lunches or dinner with our spouses -- have all run for cover.
Since the death of my closest confidante six months ago, I have slowly come to terms with the reality of life without friends. Except for going to the gym several times a week and meeting with my angel friend a couple of times a month when she's not taking care of her two grandchildren, I'm pretty much with me all the time. Spending most days alone while my husband is away at work was hard at first, but now that I'm used to it, it isn't half bad.
After recovering from the shock and bitterness from being virtually ghosted for my political views, I began to notice that it actually doesn't matter at all. Sitting across a restaurant table or hiking in the woods while another person yaks incessantly about their life and how much they hate "Trumpies" never added a whole heck of a lot to mine, as it turned out. Who knew that painting alone in my studio held greater rewards?
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