Dear 48% that voted to stay in the EU with me,
I knew that today was going to be difficult for many of you. Grief is a tough emotion to conquer, and anyone worth their salt will tell you that never happens anyway, it’s just how you live with the loss. When you watch someone you respect on Social media post a GIF of Spongebob Squarepants crying on the day you’re trying to make the most of someone else’s political decision, there’s an understanding that the next two years may be living hell in places where you’d hoped there could be compassion and understanding. Nobody will disagree that making jokes about how terrible anything is when you’ve lost it is isn’t anything other than a coping mechanism, but maybe after nearly a year of knowing this day would come, we could perhaps all get over ourselves and move on. I know this is asking a lot, but at this stage there’s a stark choice for those of us without the money to leave the UK for good, or with those who rely on us having their own issues to deal with first.
My son’s GCSE exams begin after Easter, then A levels: after which if the circumstances allow he could choose to leave for Europe himself. My daughter’s just beginning her journey in secondary education. Yesterday, the Orange Fool effectively put back US Climate change legislation by eight years, possibly further. North Korea are, I’m told by various news agencies, almost capable of sticking a nuclear warhead in flight. I know more than half a dozen people who are themselves or have family members being treated for cancer, one of whom who will not see two years hence. These are the true realities of my life, not the fact that today someone hands a letter to someone else. Whatever long term consequences Article 50 triggering might have, we have to live through the next two years to grasp them. There is far too much unknown at this point for me to even consider looking that far ahead.
Today’s social media and news cycle is, I imagine, what it must feel like for men to be repeatedly punched in the nuts. The discomfort never lets up, and once you’ve recovered from someone whining then somebody else appears to give you a reminder of just how unrelenting pain can be. I get that many people are really pleased we’re leaving, but what’s more upsetting and counter productive now are the smart-arsed 48%-ers saying ‘You’ll regret this.’ Yes, we get that our removal from Europe is as about as organised as it is possible to be with nobody having a clue. Everybody knows there is no plan. There won’t be in two years and if we’re lucky, in a decade, we might make a decent fist of it. However, as large portions of the planet as we know it could effectively vanish underwater in five years if global warming continues to melt the ice caps? Really, your attitude isn’t helping.
Let me tell you what will.
Do something about it. Stop posting your clever memes and snarky responses to front page headlines on social media, get off your arses and MAKE CHANGE HAPPEN. Increase your subs to aid organisations and domestic charities. Support local business, whilst at the same time making sure you don’t just do this for a few months before it just becomes easier to go back to the multinational chains. Join a political party. If that’s to bitter a pill to swallow, join a Community Help group. Volunteer for stuff. Get out into your Community and do some good for a change, instead of complaining that ‘those people’ who voted for us to leave can now sort everything out because, clearly, this is their problem to solve. If you believe so much in Europe, start acting like a European. We are all in this together now and frankly if you want respect from others and to live with yourself every day? Don’t become the very people you’re now criticising for caring only about their own interests.
Become something better.
If we live through Wednesday in one piece? I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early to start the job of making things whole again. Maybe now we all know there’s no turning back?
Perhaps you can finally reconcile your grief with moving forward.
Love and Cake,