I feel like it is Christmas, my parents have gone through a nasty divorce and I don't know whose home to go to. On the one hand, my old home is still there, but someone new has moved in, gutted the place and made it utterly unrecognizable. On the other hand, the new house is completely unfamiliar and feels cold, foreign and unwelcoming.
That's how I've been explaining how I feel about politics since Donald Trump was elected president. I feel like a political orphan. I grew up a child of the Reagan '80s and I've proudly worked as part of the Republican Party my entire adult life. I believe in the core conservative tenets of limited yet effective government, personal responsibility, a free-market economy and a strong national defense — vintage Republican values.
But that's not the Republican Party I see leading in Washington. Those aren't the core values driving the conversation. Instead, what I see all too often is an angry mob preying on people's worst fears, trampling over the weak and shutting out any dissenting views.
Rather than hold our new president to account and demand that he lead with integrity, comport himself with diplomacy and engage the public with honesty, too many in my party quickly shun any disagreement or suggestion of impropriety, all the while the smoke signals billowing out of the White House indicate trouble nearly every day.
The emperor may have no clothes, but we are determined to avert our eyes and blithely march forward.
Still, I'm not a Democrat. I don't look to the left and feel welcome, either. I see just as much bitterness, divisiveness and infighting at times, and I do not see an open-minded acceptance of the viewpoints of an independent, pro-life woman.
I watched my Facebook feed during the inauguration and saw friends celebrating and toasting the new administration at the famed Black Tie & Boots inaugural ball for Texans in Washington. But I didn't feel like celebrating. I think how you win matters, and the tone the election set was not one I wanted to applaud.
The next day I watched again as friends across the country peacefully, yet energetically, protested the new administration. They had sign-painting parties, loaded their kids in strollers and Baby Bjorns and marched on Denver, Austin, New York, Los Angeles and Washington. But again, I didn't feel like I belonged at the Women's March, either.