I thought a lot over Thanksgiving about what ‘giving thanks’ means in the real world. In my real world, it means health, family, friends, cozy shelter, good food, and peace.

Peace within my house, within my circle, is a given, and I’m forever grateful. It’s the threats to peace outside, in those places where I have no control, that haunt me.

The real peril our country faces, now that an increasingly unhinged, narcissistic dictator wannabe is in charge, will haunt me even more. It didn’t have to happen. Millions of Americans didn’t take the threat seriously enough. Now we’re entering a necessary new phase: resistance.

I try not to think about what we would be doing now if Harris/Walz had won. We would not be afraid. Most of the cabinet choices would stay the same. Two smart, kind people would be in charge. Their idea of priorities would not always be to our liking, but it would be sane. There would be those many chances to reach out and change their minds. The reforms and programs we’re worked so hard to put in place would still be there. If they needed adjusting, those adjustments would be made only after much consideration, looking at the constitution, the law, the need. By the books.

That’s all gone now. The tear-down will begin minutes after noon on January 20, and the only thing we’ll be able to do at first is to watch helplessly. Every terrible affront will be like a knife cutting through. We’ll feel it in our guts and, if we’re human, we’ll be affected.

I fully expect to stay angry. I won’t get over this. And how could I? The damage the Trump regime will do will be on-going. Four years of this will be like a growing cancer. We might remove a portion of it, but it will be lurking, ever-present, ever able to attack at any time, in any place, with no warning, with no way of avoiding it if it chooses to attack our most vulnerable spots.

But it’s not all doom and gloom, thanks to the good people who are already gearing up to fight. I’m joining them, for what it’s worth. I thought I could take it easy once Kamala Harris took over. Now I can’t, and as pissed as that makes me, I won’t back down. I won’t stop the reminders of what we’ve lost. I won’t stop calling for help.

I won’t stop distrusting those Americans who support the Trump regime because I know it’s healthier than trusting them. Our divisions are real and they’re necessary, as long as Donald Trump keeps dividing us.

If there are Trump turncoats who see the light and come over to our side, I’ll welcome them, but I’m not going to spend a minute trying to lure them over. Until they come to their senses, they’re the enemy in my eyes. I don’t know how else to view them. They’re aiding and abetting. They’re standing in the way of preserving our laws and mores, standing in the way of the work needed to protect the vulnerable from harm.

That’s treachery and it’s unforgivable.

Those few you might want to mention—the ignorant, the fearful, the clueless—they’re such a small number compared to the dedicated Trump cultists they’re nothing more than handy strawmen. Millions of Trump supporters are out there ready to do battle against us with words and deeds. They’ll keep the divisions going because they’ve been trained to distrust and hate us.

More than that, they’re going to do everything they can to make sure Trump gets everything he wants. Which means we’re in a position to lose everything. Unless we fight back. And fighting back means going after a known enemy—the people who will do anything to make Trump a formidable strongman with no one to stop him.

So we’ll first need to get used to the divisions. They’ll be there for the duration, and, again, it’s healthy. We need to know who we’re fighting. We can’t be complacent or wishy-washy or defeatist.

Not ever again.

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