We're two-thirds of the way through the legislative session (and I’m even closer to being done with my two terms in office!), and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t running low on emotional fuel. I’m showing up. I’m voting. I’m in every major debate, prepared with the arguments and strategy needed to best represent the people in the way they have asked me to.
But lately I’m also spending a lot of time wondering what all of this is actually for—especially when the playing field has completely changed.
I remember what the Nebraska Legislature was, and was lucky to be a part of it before this era of hyper-partisanship and proud anti-intellectualism: a place of thoughtful collaboration, good-faith debate, and actual problem-solving. And now I’m sitting in the same chair, in the same chamber, but the soul of it feels absent. It’s like talking to the void, except the void has a supermajority and a second-grade reading level (today I saw someone say the U.S. is “post-literate” ???? That’s a word).
Still, there have been bright moments. Yesterday, I was proud to help defeat LB3, the winner-take-all bill, which was an effort to strip Nebraska of our unique system of splitting electoral votes by congressional district. This bill wasn’t about fairness or democracy; it was a partisan power grab, plain and simple. Nebraska has long been the only red state to allow a blue vote to count in presidential elections, and that made us a target. But thanks to broad opposition, public pressure, and a few brave legislators who chose principle over party, we kept our split system intact. It was a reminder that sometimes, even in the middle of the dysfunction, doing the right thing still matters—and still wins the day.
But there’s a wave of bills we’re still fighting that are more dangerous than people even realize—especially the coordinated attacks on ballot initiatives. These right-wing power grabs are designed to make it harder for Nebraskans to petition their own government. The goal is to silence voters—especially on issues like abortion, minimum wage, and cannabis reform—before those issues even reach the ballot. The party of “freedom” wants to make sure you never get a say.
Meanwhile, the budget process is highlighting more of the same: misplaced priorities, a hollowing out of social services, and a bizarre obsession with punishing low-income people. It's performative cruelty disguised as fiscal discipline.
Sometimes I look around the chamber and wonder if anyone else remembers when this body worked. When we debated bills on merit instead of ideology. When compromise wasn’t treated as betrayal. Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m just tired. Or maybe we really are in the midst of losing something important—and we don’t know how to get it back.
It’s hard being in the super minority. It's hard watching people destroy institutions I used to believe in. It’s hard to sit in that chamber, day after day, knowing I’m missing time with my daughter, with my partner, with my business, with myself. I’ve given everything I have to this role, and I sometimes don’t know what I’ll have left to take with me when it’s over.
This is my last term. I’ll be term-limited in 2026. I’m proud of what I’ve done here. But I’m also grieving what I couldn’t do. And I’m thinking a lot about what’s next—for me, for Nebraska, for our politics, and for anyone who’s still trying to make good things happen in broken systems.
If you’re new here—hi, I’m Megan. I’m a state senator, a small business owner, a mom, and someone who’s still really trying to believe in the power of public service, even when it doesn’t believe in itself. This newsletter is where I process allllll of that. If you’ve been with me for a while, thank you for staying. Your presence makes this work feel a little less lonely.
If you’d like to support what I write here—and the life I’m building after public office—you can become a paid subscriber for just $7/month. Paid subscribers help me keep doing this work in the open, on my own terms. And for that, I’m deeply grateful. I have had this Substack newsletter since 2020, and I have not asked for subscribers, and it feels very vulnerable, but here I am doing it! That’s all!
Recent moments of joy, beauty, comfort, and fun
A lot is also happening at the shop…with tariffs/economic uncertainty/increasingly shitty manufacturing/brands closing, we’re putting more emphasis on NATURAL FIBERS and SECONDHAND. More on this later, but…
to that end, we’ve dropped two new collections in the past two weeks:
Coming soon
The thing I said about secondhand
Personal spaces
How to keep fighting when the fight starts to feel futile
The creative projects I’m working on next
Long-distance relationship lessons I didn’t ask for but now live by
The magic of curating beautiful things (and why that’s not shallow at all)
A conversation I want to have with my 15-year-old self (and my daughter)
My vision for a magazine I haven’t started yet (but still might)
More pics, playlists, and thoughts on long-distance love, grocery store lighting, and personal reinvention
With love,
Megan
Thanks for reading. I am first and foremost a shopgirl. The best way to support me/my family/my staff, help me pay my rent, and validate the work that fulfills me is by supporting my businesses Five Nine and Ceremony, or by subscribing to this newsletter! I’ve been a small business owner here in my neighborhood for 20 years and I’m so grateful to get to do this. It’s really a dream come true every day. Take care.