Yesterday I could barely manage the strength to get out of bed. Today I feel differently.

Something happened after the initial shock that slammed my heart to the ground dissipated, after the screaming grief settled into a more manageable hum beneath my skin, after the tears couldn’t muster falling one more time. Something happened after the fear and anger turned to numbness and back again.

A sprout of determination wove its way up through the rubble of hopelessness. It was just a tiny thing, but I could feel its need to grow into something much bigger. I knew, like many others know, that if the bigger picture looks completely and utterly wrong, then I must do something, as many small adjustments as I am able, to transform it into something worth looking at again.

I knew if the larger system wouldn’t back me up in making this world, this country, a better place for everyone and everything, then I would start in the small communities within my grasp and find a way to do it myself.

As you all know, I work in libraries. For the time being, until the moment where my health insurance might very well disappear and I will have to find another job, I have the privilege to work in an area that has the potential to do so much good. On a daily basis, between the two libraries I work, I interact with such a variety of people with different needs and wants, 99% of which are just trying to do the best they can in this life. My job is to assist them in doing so, to be there to provide whatever resources they may need for themselves, for their families, for their careers, or for their personal lives. I might spend a good hour with a single person assessing their needs and doing what I can to make that a reality, or I might spend one second giving a group of people a friendly, reassuring smile. No matter what it entails, my duty is to let the people who walk through the library doors know this is a safe, inclusive environment, and we are there to make their lives just a little bit easier.

I didn’t get in this job to help people. I started working in libraries because I love books and the wealth of different worlds and knowledge they contain. I started working in libraries so I would be completely surrounded by these small volumes of escape. The reason I have never stopped working in libraries, though, is because of my interactions with its people. Yes, sometimes there are interactions where I wish I could just drop everything and run back to my office job away from the public. However, it is the much larger number that end with mutual gratitude, laughter, or smiles that strengthen my determination to keep going in this field. It’s interacting with hundreds of children and parents in programs, classes and story times on a weekly basis that keeps me here. It’s helping everyone find the resources to expand their world and knowledge. It’s providing a safe sanctuary to people who have been affected by homelessness and difficult living situations.

There have been many times in the past when I’ve let my own personal frustrations form a barrier between me and the patron(s) I’m interacting with. Yesterday, however, I felt that wall crumble to the ground as most of the people I talked to shared the same grief, the same haggard expressions, and the same eyes filled with uncertainty. I hope that barrier stays down. I hope it stays dead and buried and that empathy flourishes over its remains. No matter what is happening in the world, there is a very good chance that whoever you’re interacting with is going through frustrations and hardships. It shouldn’t have taken this shared grief to make me come to terms with that, but it did. Now I hope I keep that knowledge with me through all future interactions and fill them with kindness and reassurance.

I don’t want to stop there, though. I have such a good opportunity working in a library to strive for change. I knew this before, of course, but I just never participated in envisioning new programs and opportunities to help libraries become even better for our communities. Now I’m going to participate. I’m going to brainstorm, talk to patrons, research, and come up with as many ideas as possible. Then I will do whatever I can to make sure those ideas become a reality. We do some really good things here, but we could be doing so much better. Our foreign language section is so much smaller than I want it to be, given such a large number of our patrons speak English as a second language, or not at all. That’s probably one of the first things I want to tackle, along with our signage and even the way we provide information to the public. I don’t want anybody to be excluded from knowing what we offer here. At one of the libraries I work at, there isn’t any way for a homeless patron to check out a book or a way for patrons without Internet or computers to access some of our resources. The libraries also feature very little programming concerning the environment and other issues. All of these things and more I want to change. I’m done not caring what happens here. If I can help change these communities for the better during the dark times that are surely to come, I will.

Yesterday was a rough day that involved friends, coworkers, and strangers all crying, hugging and reassuring each other that we will survive this, no matter what.

Today, tomorrow, and every day after that will hopefully be a better one. Some bad things are about to happen, there is no getting around that, but no matter what comes, it is up to me, you, and everyone else to make sure we are doing what we can to make each day a better day than the last.