A Political Grief No One Is Talking About
On what readers are carrying — and the one comment from a young reader that surprised me most.
There’s a grief I don’t see named anywhere. It belongs specifically to people who are older, who have fought long and hard, who still care deeply — and who are now watching the possibility of a better future slip away at the exact moment their own capacity is slowing down. And not just a better future for themselves, but for the younger generations they love so dearly. Mad and sad at the same time. Carrying decades of investment in institutions and movements and people, and watching all of it under threat and being torn down.
If you’re over 50 and you feel this, I’d like to hear from you.
— Note I posted to Substack feed May 14, 2026.
I posted that Note into my feed last week and it generated more responses than anything I’ve posted in months. Here’s a glimpse of what people shared:
“I did not expect to be trying to fight fascism in my retirement and I’m afraid for my young adult daughter.”
“The hardest part is not even knowing how to fight back. Maybe not believing the fight will work.”
“I feel this to my core - grief, anger, resentment.”
“Thank you. You have described it so perfectly. I feel like I am in mourning for the whole world.”
“I feel so lost. So let down. And so responsible.”
I’m 63 and have been writing about staying steady and hanging on to hope and humanity in the face of everything happening. My skills for cultivating defiance, hope, and committed action are pretty solid. Nonetheless, despair and overwhelm find ways to creep in. And, of course, Trump’s relentless campaign of engineered chaos is literally designed to weaken our resolve and effectiveness. I understand that cognitively. But sometimes there’s a disconnect between what I know in my mind and what I feel in my bones. And last week? My bones and heart were feeling worn down.
I can’t point to a specific thing that made me stall. But that’s the nature of cumulative load, where lots of things build up until we just break down and we’re not always sure why. I’ve been intentionally stepping back from digital overload and vigilant news consumption. Counter-intuitively, that created enough quiet in my mind for the weight of everything to really catch up.
Last week, I woke up in pain one morning. My low back has arthritis that fluctuates with a mind of its own. I dragged myself to the kitchen, made coffee, tossed back some ibuprofen, and collapsed into my living room chair. Rather than opening the news, I just sat there staring out as the sun’s first rays lit up the mountains I can see out our back porch. And I just felt so darn heavy. The kind of tired sleep does not help with. And I hate admitting that because so many people rely on me to be the hopeful one, the strong one, the one who holds space for the grief of others, the one who has a plan.
The light bulb moment arrived: “holy shit, I’m grieving.” And I started crying. Not gut-wrenching sobs. Just that gentle release that sometimes comes with recognition, like “Oh. THAT’S what I’ve been carrying. Phew.”
I held space for myself for a change, allowed myself to just be. No plan. No plan to make a plan. Just sip coffee, stare at mountains, allow the pain in my heart to be. And isn’t that sometimes the hardest damn thing! But oh so necessary.
In that moment, I also felt very alone. And I’ve done enough healing and recovery work to recognize when I need fellowship. That’s when that note for the Substack feed just came to me. I have to reach out to others. I know I’m not the only one.
And sure enough - I’m not alone. I’m going to share some of the comments from readers, loosely clustered into ten themes that emerged. Some are lightly edited for concision.
1. The specific cruelty of fighting fascism in retirement
These commenters expected this stage of life to look different. They saved, they planned, they invested in country and career. Now they’re fighting battles they thought were won.
“I did not expect to be trying to fight fascism in my retirement and I’m afraid for my young adult daughter.”
“I just turned 70. Did all the right things to get educated, stay working, save, pay off debt and pay state college tuition for my children. I alternate between rage and catatonic sorrow.”
“I never thought I would have to be fighting for the same things again.”
2. The fear of leaving children and grandchildren behind in this world
Mortality and grief tangled together. Not abstract concern about future generations — specific, named, beloved people.
“I cannot believe I have to leave my precious daughter in this world.”
“I’m so sad and angry for my grandchildren!”
“57 with a 15 year old son. That [note] sums it up.”
3. Won’t live to see the ending
A particular ache of long arcs. Decades of work, and the story will finish without them. Some have made peace with it. Some haven’t.
“I’m pretty sure that I will die before this fascist regime, and the American racism and greed that support it, are gone and their effect erased.”
“My first reaction when Trump won was that this is the logical conclusion of things I’ve been in the fight over for most of my adult life, and that now that it’s gone this far, I’m not going to live to see how the story ends. Then, I decided that if it’s been my whole adult life, I guess this shit is my home.”
“I HAVE hope for the future. I believe our society will come through this to perhaps even better things than we had before. BUT, I won’t see that. I will NOT get a calm happy retirement, security, or care in my elder days. I will get a fight, which will undoubtedly last beyond me, and I will never get to see the result of the win.”
4. The bodily and material cost
Decades of stress showing up in the flesh. Chronic illness. Lost careers. Lost institutions. The personal damage that accumulated while they were paying attention.
“I’m dealing with some serious health issues brought on by decades of chronic stress trying to ‘make it work’ in the world as it is.”
“Religious Studies professor who has watched as her state shuttered her program and whose own institution is looking to rewrite tenure rules.”
“Made it to a full professorship teaching critical thinking and US cultural and political history — only to have my college sold in a real estate deal so a handful of millionaires can make a few more millions.”
5. Shattered worldview
Not political disappointment. Epistemological rupture. Their model of the country broke.
“I feel like I am in mourning for the whole world.”