Much of the American electorate has grown numb to Donald Trump’s bizarre social media posts.

But Trump jolted even the most jaded observers with an outlandish all-caps statement on Sunday: “I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT!” The former president offered no additional explanation.

Trump is well known for the insults he aims at his adversaries. He has criticized and mocked plenty of women. But this wasn’t an insult: It was a direct declaration of hatred.

He’s never posted “I HATE HILLARY CLINTON” or “I HATE KAMALA HARRIS,” both political opponents he seems to loathe. He’s never posted “I HATE E. JEAN CARROLL,” a woman whose case led to a jury finding Trump liable for sexual abuse and owing her $83 million for defamation. He’s never posted that he hates Fani Willis or Letitia James, two prosecutors who have investigated him.

Merriam-Webster defines hate as "intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger or sense of injury." When children have an outburst saying they “hate” someone or something, parents should try to get them to process the emotion and figure out the root cause of such an intense feeling. After all, letting hatred fester inside oneself is corrosive.

This, however, was not a harmless, healthy expression of emotion. This was a powerful man -- a former president who is seeking the office again -- telling his millions of followers about his hatred of a much-younger woman.

What could possess a 78-year-old man to go after a 34-year-old pop star? Does Trump even understand why he lashed out?

Let’s try to help Trump process his big feelings. Here are a few things that might be behind his hatred of Taylor Swift:

-- She rejected him. Swift endorsed Harris in a moment when Trump was particularly vulnerable. He had just lost the debate in rather spectacular fashion when Swift dropped the hammer via an Instagram post. It may have been even more galling to him that her endorsement of Harris barely even mentioned his name -- just that his website had posted a fake, creepy AI image of her. An all-out attack would have at least given him the attention he craves.

-- She’s much more popular than he is. Trump respects celebrity, and Swift is one of the biggest celebrities on the planet. She has 284 million followers on Instagram. The most he ever had on Twitter was 88.9 million.

-- Her crowds are way bigger than his. She sells out stadiums with close to 100,000 seats -- and those all are people who paid to see her. His rallies this year have had an average crowd size of about 5,600, according to Crowd Counting Consortium.

-- She ignored his compliments. He's called her “very beautiful” multiple times -- “unusually beautiful,” in an interview for the new book "Apprentice in Wonderland: How Donald Trump and Mark Burnett Took America Through the Looking Glass." She didn’t even care.

-- He believes she owes him. In February, Trump posted on Truth Social, "I signed and was responsible for the Music Modernization Act for Taylor Swift and all other Musical Artists. Joe Biden didn’t do anything for Taylor, and never will." He added that Swift endorsing Biden would be "disloyal to the man who made her so much money."

-- She’s not intimidated by him. Trump has ruined ordinary people’s lives with lies about them -- Georgia election workers and Haitian immigrants, to name a few -- but he can’t do that to her. Swift has her own power, and he has no control over her.

-- He’s scared of her. He knows she has a massive and loyal fanbase, and that her endorsement will matter to some of them. Also, she is using her massive influence to register new voters. She posted a link to Vote.gov and encouraged her fans to register. In 24 hours, 400,000 people clicked through from her link to the federal site for voting information. Trump seems to be intimidated about what this means for the election.

-- She made his vice presidential pick, JD Vance, look ridiculous for insulting single women who own cats by signing her post “Childless Cat Lady.” Touche.

-- She’s a real billionaire. In eight months, her Eras Tour grossed a record-breaking $1 billion on a single tour.

In a song from her latest album, Swift asks a lyrical question: "Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?"

The Swifties have spoken, Donald: This beef won’t go well for you.

Families with deep ideological divides have a common coping strategy that becomes especially critical during an election season: Avoid political discussions at all costs.

But years of hyper-partisanship, vitriol, misinformation and strained relationships have led some to a more nuanced approach.

If the past few elections have taught Kimberly Kabak Epperson of Ferguson, Missouri, anything, it’s how to navigate potential minefields, she said. She and her husband hold different political beliefs than their parents. Her mother-in-law will post things on Facebook that Kabak Epperson finds offensive.

Still, “That’s our family -- our kids’ grandma,” she said. She created a boundary for herself: She will call out these posts, but refuses to engage in an online back-and-forth.

“I want to be clear where I stand,” she said.

If she sees something offensive posted by her mother-in-law, she might respond by saying, “That’s not acceptable.” She won’t try to change her parents' or in-laws' minds, but she will leave if their conversation denigrates others or goes against her morals and beliefs.

“I can only control myself,” she said.

Kabak Epperson said that once she communicates to a family member that she’s not trying to change their beliefs -- and tells them what it means to respect hers -- she’s better able to manage the relationships that she doesn’t want to lose. (She says there are some that have become unsalvageable.) The bottom line in these situations: Be respectful of me, or I’ll have to remove myself.

The dynamic is different when close friendships diverge on politics.

Kabak Epperson described a recent visit from her best friend from college, whom she has considered a close friend for 15 years. They have stayed in touch through texts, but had not spent time together in person for five years.

During the course of the weekend visit, her friend asked Kabak Epperson why she was going to homeschool her child. When she shared her reasoning, the friend dismissed her concerns, saying the issue was "not that big of a deal."

Kabak Epperson felt stunned. When she tried to explain further, her friend shut the conversation down, saying she didn’t want to talk about anything “controversial” that they might disagree on.

“It was hurtful for me,” Kabak Epperson said. “It broke a lot of trust. It’s been really weird to see these invisible fences arise.”

The rest of the visit felt awkward and uncomfortable, she said. It changed her perspective on the relationship because she realized she could not be her whole, real self around her friend.

She said she wants to try to continue the relationship from a distance, and to humanize the issues her friend described as “political” by sharing the ways they impact her family. Maybe something she says will influence the way her friend thinks about issues that have only been theoretical to her until now.

“I won’t try to confront her or change her mind,” she said. “But I will continue to live my truth.”

Kabak Epperson has also taken other steps to try to bridge the chasms that hyper-partisanship has created. A key aspect has been educating herself.

“I’ve been reading like crazy the past few years,” she said. She read “Jesus and John Wayne” to better understand the Christian evangelical movement. She’s more informed on the history of race in America. But she understands that not everyone is interested in having nuanced discussions.

“It feels like a minefield trying to talk to anyone these days,” she said.

So, she limits her energy to those who are in a true position of influence, such as members of her local school board. She volunteers for voter registrations efforts rather than engaging with trolls. When she encounters negativity online, she counters it with a donation or time spent toward a cause important to her.

“Budget your energy,” she advises. “And push positivity.”

My husband and I hit peak wedding season this year.

Many of our friends’ young adult children, whom we have watched grow up, reached marriageable age and met their life partners. Other friends, closer to us in age, found a second (or third) chance at love. Additionally, in our South Asian culture, weddings are a very big deal with ever-expanding guest lists.

This confluence of circumstances led to an influx of invitations: This spring and summer, we attended nine weddings, most with multiple celebrations, leading to a total of 18 wedding events.

This is more nuptial-related celebration than I’ve ever experienced in such a short period of time. It made me reflect on what this milestone event has come to mean.

In my adult life, I’ve attended more than a hundred weddings. I’ve seen trends come and go -- from pared-down, minimalist gatherings during the pandemic to the most opulent affairs in the immediate aftermath.

The Wedding Industrial Complex has benefited from the Instagramification of wedding culture. At the recent events we attended, there were photo backdrops for guests, signature drinks, custom signage and multiple photographers and videographers.

In the ambient cultural background was the Ambani wedding: a five-month spectacle in Mumbai earlier this year, in which the son of billionaire Mukesh Ambani tied the knot. Ambani is one the world’s richest billionaires, and his son's extravaganza cost an estimated $600 million. In a country where tens of millions live in poverty, this let-them-eat-cake display of opulence has a trickle-down effect on culture and consumption beyond India. It perpetuates the notion that extreme weddings are an aspirational norm.

Who wouldn’t want a blank check to throw the party of a lifetime celebrating the launch of their married life? Lavish parties are beautiful and fun and memorable -- and most of us would rather not think about the ethical implications of this kind of consumption. From the environmental impact to the opportunity costs of how else that money could be spent to cultural expectations, it’s a complicated calculus.

I’ve forced myself to think about it, and I haven’t come up with any easy answers.

In our culture, wedding celebrations play out over several days with specific traditions and rituals for different events. Families tend to be larger and most relatives expect an invitation. Weddings are also used as a way to mark social status.

In St. Louis, we’ve attended a handful of weddings at a nearby convention center because it can accommodate 600-plus guests more easily than most hotels. We traveled to an out-of-town wedding for which the hosts flew in a Bollywood singer for a private concert and hired a wedding designer who had also helped with Nick Jonas and Priyanka Chopra’s nuptials.

In the blur of this year’s weddings, the most memorable moments have been the ones where the newlyweds’ joy and love and their families’ happiness outshined the surroundings. The smaller, more intimate events created a strong sense of belonging. In the cases where we were closer to the parents than the bride or groom, learning the newlyweds’ stories made the events more meaningful.

I can’t recall all the details that I’m sure many brides belabored in their planning. But these moments were unforgettable -- a groom’s exuberant dance in front of his bride, a mother’s tears as her daughter walked down the aisle, a father’s heartfelt speech welcoming a beloved new member to the family, the look in a bride’s eyes gazing at her husband.

Each time I heard the officiant speak about the role of a life partner, I thought about the commitment to my own husband. I couldn’t help but imagine our own children’s future weddings.

I’m sure I will have to rein in my impulse to make those events as spectacular as I want without breaking the bank.

This recent marathon of marriage celebrations delivered a valuable message: The magic at a wedding is created by love.