What a crazy couple of days it has been in the news cycle, eh?

I was sitting with my thoughts, sifting through how things “felt” and – stick with me here – I kept thinking about choosing a lunch spot with co-workers.

Midcoast resident Heather D. Martin wants to know what’s on your mind; email her at heather@heatherdmartin.com.

OK, I am betting that might make literally no sense to some of you, but here’s the thing. If you, like me, have ever shared an office with people who eat a very different diet from you, then choosing a lunch spot is a big deal.

I happen to be vegetarian. I don’t make a big deal out of it, and I certainly don’t stop others from eating meat (lord knows my two kids will eat anything that can’t actually outrun them) but I myself don’t. And yes, fish counts as meat.

So, in my own personal history, I have on more than one occasion found myself in a situation where there is literally nothing on the menu I can eat. Nothing. Even the salads had meat in them.

On one memorable occasion, right here in Bath, I found myself in a restaurant where not only was there meat in literally every dish, the chef said it was impossible to prepare me a grilled cheese without the bacon. Now, call me bonkers, but that seems like the chef was making a statement because if ever there was a dish that 100% absolutely can be made without meat in it, it is a grilled cheese sandwich. But I digress.

When I find myself in such a situation, there is a peculiar and particular panic that sets in. It feels like a personal assault, and because it is around food (the very definition of primal) it triggers a survival fear. It’s deep.

Now, before anyone out there writes in about how silly that is, let me say, “I know.”

I am not going to starve if I miss a lunch, and the carnivores could certainly exist on plain pasta, but the real issue at hand is not the daily caloric intake needed for a human body’s survival. It is about how it feels to be seen – or not. About how it feels to have who you are fundamentally disregarded.

If you have to skip lunch, you feel unimportant. Likewise, if you want a ham sandwich and all that’s available is a hummus wrap, you don’t feel seen.

This is where we get back to my point about the national conversation reminding me of choosing a lunch spot. When we “talk politics,” it feels to me like both sides are really talking about something much, much larger.

It feels to me like we are way beyond policy, like each side feels the “other” is a threat to our/their very existence.

What a horrid way to feel. For all of us.

In the months ahead of us, there are going to be an awful lot of conversations coming at us. No, make that “arguments pretending to be conversations.”

Instead of genuine conversations about policy – with time for nuance and a real exploration of who we want to be and how we best get there – it is going to be a series of sound bites, one liners and “flash points,” all designed to elicit exactly what I talked about: primal fear to drive the vote.

Which isn’t helpful.

I can’t control the national narrative. All I can do is opt out. Not out of the vote, I will be voting for sure, but out of the madness surrounding it.

I am going to be taking deliberate and mindful breaks from the news. I am going to attend community events and remind myself of our shared humanity – and remind others I’m part of the community, too. I am going to work to ensure that everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone, feels seen, feels cared for and knows that they belong. Regardless of which side “wins.”

Our policies are up for debate. Our shared humanity is not.