Conflicted emotions coming out of the midterm elections

Emily Tseffos is the chair of the Democratic Party of the Outagamie County and ran for State Senate District 19 in the recent election

At my cousin’s wedding this weekend, I asked my aunt how she was doing.

“Do you want the socially appropriate answer or the real one?”

We both laughed, and then she told me. She’s dealing with chronic pain. Getting older has been hard, physically and emotionally. “But people don’t like to hear that stuff,” she said.

I don’t think she’d ever been quite that vulnerable with me before. I’m glad she was. And I’ve been thinking about it since.

I think about it when people ask how the kids are. Do you want the socially appropriate answer or the real one? Because yes, they’re good. They’re funny and wonderful and doing their thing. And one of my sons has medical issues that are becoming more complicated. Another is navigating developmental challenges and the lasting effects of early trauma, and we’re still figuring out what he needs and how to help him.

Their stories belong to them, too, so I keep a lot of that private. But parenting is a lot right now. I love these kids so much, and there are things I can’t fix for them. That’s hard.

And then there’s the answer to how I’m doing after the election.

I’m tired. I’m disappointed of course, although I always knew what the numbers were. I’m also so excited about what a Democratic trifecta could mean for the people around here. Dozens and dozens of people have reached out to say thank you for showing up, for giving them hope that politics can look different. I’ve read those messages more than once.

There are things in the results that encourage me, too. In a few townships, I outperformed the top of the ticket by more than two points. Places where I had connections. Where I’d shown up to help, listened, stayed in touch. Where people had a chance to know that I cared about them beyond whether they’d vote for me.

I can’t tell you why every person voted the way they did. But I look at those places and think, okay. There’s something here. This is worth building on.

Which makes the rest of what I’m feeling complicated.

Some of the heartache comes from watching elected officials and people with big platforms take victory laps as though the problems people told me about for three years are now handled. Like relief is guaranteed and coming quickly.

I want to celebrate, too. I am celebrating. But I’m still thinking about the man caring for his wife with dementia who needs help. The parents fighting to get their kids what they need. The people working all the time who still can’t pay their bills. They’re waking up to the same problems they had before the election.

I live here. These are my neighbors, and some of those worries are ours, too. So I have a hard time joining in the certainty when I know how much people need and how much work it will take to deliver. I’m hopeful about what we can do with this opportunity. I need us to stay as focused on those people as we were on winning their votes.

I’m also disillusioned with a lot of the political machinery I operate within. And I’m in leadership, at least locally, so I’m very aware that I’m part of it. I’ve done two cycles as a nontargeted candidate, and I won’t do that again. That much I know.

I have a hard time with how readily we write off whole places and the people trying to do the work there. I believe in the building. The grassroots organizing, the mutual aid, helping people see that they can make something happen in their own community. We’ve done it around here. I know what it takes, and I know it matters.

I also love the people I do this with. The ones who open the office and bring the food and make the calls and show up when somebody needs something. That’s my community. So when part of me wants to throw my hands up and say, “I’m done,” there’s a whole lot attached to that.

Do we keep trying to rebuild this from the inside? Do we put our energy somewhere else? I don’t know how neatly I fit within either party at this point. I know what I care about. I’m less sure where to put it.

It would be easier to just post, “We got the trifecta! Onward!” And believe me, I want so badly to see us deliver for the people I met at all those doors.

But if you’re asking how I am, there’s more to the answer.

So if I’ve been quiet, I’m not wallowing in despair. I’m being a mom. I’m catching my breath. I’m thinking about what we built, what it cost, and what I want to give my time to next.

I still want to dig in. I still care a whole lot. I just don’t quite know where to put my feet right now.