I have parallel but diverging emotions.
As soon as I heard the pot banging, whistles, vuvuzelas and cries of the people in my barrio at midnight, I poured myself a whisky and went up to the terrace and listened, but didn't join in. A wave of relief fizzled through me — a release of pent-up stress, depression, and pessimism that had been shadowing me for years, ever more since 2011 when capital controls and authoritarian state policies began to affect me personally.
I haven't greatly enjoyed recent years in Argentina. I have felt the state working against me, not for me. I pass the Casa Rosada on the way to and from work everyday and its presence instilled an authoritarian clamp on my both my potential, and freedom, to be my best in Argentina. I haven't received state benefits, I have seen no one who has trespassed my own liberties sent to prison, I haven't seen any action made with the the long-term good of the country in mind — only damaging populist reactions to serious situations—, I earn in pesos.
And so, at the hour of Cristina's exit, an involuntary flush of relief tingled across my shoulders and down my spine, tears welled in my eyes. Change has come, optimism grows in a government that I hope would more seek to represent the people, me myself, and the country's long-term benefit, rather than any populist ends.
Although, as the whistles, honking and pot banging died down and turned instead to shouts of "chau Crisitina," "se fue la yegua," and "Si Mauricio se puede," I felt a more concious emotion of apprehension. Not to celebrate now. Not to join in any militancy, reprimands, overly optimistic forecasts. I'm worried over the knowledge that, in order to fix the damage that has been done, the country needs to undergo some tough therapy. People wont be happy, there is a large, vibrant opposition not just in the Senate but also on the streets. They have a lot of funding and a lot of organization. Macri and his cabinet themselves aren't entirely clean, and I worry if they are up to task or if they can even survive the first four years.
But relief and cautiously-optimistic worry feels so much better than the anxious, restrictive pressure that the previous regime had me shackled to over the last decade. I step lighter and I'm making plans for the future.