Good morning, good morning. Outside my window, it’s still dusky, but the light is coming. Yesterday the puppy barked several times at neighbors walking by below the second fence in the backyard — she was talking to the deer that use that treelined stretch as a safe boulevard from one bit of preserved land to another. I said to the puppy, I wish you’d just say hello to them, maybe make them feel a little more welcome, a little less harassed. I’d like to say that to the folks in and around the White House these days, too, but I think they’d be less receptive than my dog.
I don’t know about you, but it’s been a struggle for me not to just hide inside my shell a lot for the last several months. Things often feel hopeless right now. Maybe you feel triggered all the time, or a lot more often than usual. Maybe you’ve been going to every protest you hear about. Maybe the protests don’t work for you. Maybe you’re like me—spinning, anxious, unable to stay focused on one thing for very long. I tell my therapist that I’ve been more irritable lately, more impatient, quicker to anger — she says that she’s hearing this from many, many people. I think that we are so afraid, and so sad—and really fucking angry.