But on Wednesday, I took a break from organizing. Instead, I sat on my couch with some friends, and talked and laughed and got angry and cried and mourned the terrible results of this election.

Because the results were terrible. A born-again, right-wing religious fundamentalist promising four more years of war, repression and inequality has just won a second term as leader of our nation. Eight more members of congress are now Republican, including at least one senator who believes that doctors who terminate pregnancies should be executed. The democratic senate minority leader is out of a job. 11 states have made gay marriage illegal, and numerous progressive ballot initiatives, like the efforts here in California to provide health care for millions of workers or slightly reduce harsh three strikes laws have failed.

Amidst all these losses, progressives did enjoy some inspiring victories. Democrat Barack Obama trounced his right-wing opponent to pick up a senate seat in Illinois. Despite voting for George Bush by a 20% margin, Montanans elected a Democrat as governor. And in my county, voters chose to elect progressives in three out of four races, to help the environment by expanding our local transit system, to fund education and to ban genetically modified crops from our farms.

Perhaps most importantly, nationwide, the progressive movement came together in an unprecedented way and mobilized millions of new voters to go to the polls. Liberals and progressives united, and millions of people gave time and money in an effort to swing the election.

We accomplished a lot, and we should celebrate that. But we must also mourn our loss.

That doesn’t mean wallowing. It means being honest with ourselves and taking the time to process any feelings of loss, fear, anger, guilt, sadness, humiliation and disappointment we are feeling after this election.

As an activist, I know one of my main roles must be to stay positive and inspire people, and that other activists should do the same. I believe most people know the world is not in good shape. What they need from us is hope.

But I have also learned what happens when people repress their negative feelings: they turn on others in the movement, on the people they are trying to reach, and often, on themselves. And that can have terrible consequences, for us and for our movement.

So often, we wonder why activists can’t seem to have productive meetings, or reach out to new people, or even get along with one another. And we wonder how the people we are trying to reach can make such irrational choices.

Maybe these unhealthy choices and behaviors have less to do with reason than they do with feelings. If we don’t deal with these feelings, those choices and behaviors will simply replay themselves and most likely grow worse over time.

I’m not sure our motto right now should be, “Don’t Mourn, Organize!” That seems like repression and denial, and it strikes me as unhealthy, counter productive, insincere, and unlikely to resonate.

Perhaps our motto right now, at least within the movement, should be, “Mourn and Organize.” Let’s process the feelings of sadness and anger we are feeling after this election – and during these frightening times - while we also stay hopeful and continue to work for a better world.

As progressives, we tackle issues like war, environmental destruction, poverty, and repression – problems whose consequences are often horribly brutal, frightening and inhumane. And yet I believe most of us, myself included, rarely take much time to really feel much about these horrors, or our failure to stop them.

We certainly know what we are fighting is wrong, and we are passionate and determined in our struggle, but we often don’t stay with the feelings that surround the problems we are struggling against, because spending time thinking about how those Iraqi prisoners must have felt when they were being raped and tortured – and how we couldn’t do anything about it - would just be too difficult. And besides, we have to focus our energy on fixing these problems.

Yet I believe a crucial component of fixing these problems – and of staying healthy and sane in the process, so we can be happy human beings and remain engaged for the long haul – is taking some time to feel their effect on others and on ourselves. Because when you see a naked man surrounded by vicious dogs and armed jailers, and you don’t take the time to feel his pain and mourn and maybe cry, your pain does not disappear. When you learn your government can now enter your home and download your computer files and seize your medical records, all without telling you or even seeking permission from a judge, that fear does not go away. When you find out that on one day, 11 states have made gay marriage illegal, crushing the hopes and spirits of thousands of people, your sadness and anger do not go away. If your pain and fear and sadness and anger are not acknowledged and processed, they will rear their ugly heads in countless unhealthy ways.

As hard as we try, we cannot escape the pain in this world anymore than we can escape the pain in our own lives. Instead, I believe that as people and as activists, we must acknowledge the pain, fear, sadness and often, the sense of helplessness our work and our worldview inevitably bring up, and make a serious effort to process those feelings. That can be so hard to do, but the consequences of not doing so are often far more trying, for ourselves and any hope we have of making this world a better place.

Take some time to mourn during these next few days and weeks. Maybe take some time to mourn and process every day or every week for the rest of your life.

Because while it is important to feel hopeful, and inspired, and compassionate, you are also right to feel frightened, angry and sad today, and on many other days as well. And you should take the time to really feel those feelings, in a way that is healthy and honest and helps you to heal and carry on.

Doing so will be better for you. It will be better for the people around you. And it will be better for the movement we so desperately need and want to succeed.

Roni Krouzman rkrouzman@hotmail.com is a grassroots activist, educator and writer based in San Rafael, California. His essays and articles have been published by the San Francisco Bay Guardian, Alternet, and TomPaine.com, as well as other newspapers, websites and magazines. Roni directs Next Generation, an organization he founded in 2002 that empowers young people to understand and change the world.