Tough Week

I was determined to ignore the news this past week, but it didn't work so well. I've pretty much avoided reading all political stories since the day after the election, and I stuck with that, but. To properly ignore a story, I have to know what's in it, and so I read the headlines. The headlines are bad enough.

I will say this for the man - he showed us who he was.

So much upheaval and disruption. None of it is helping to lower the price of eggs, no surprise.

I am grieving the country I thought I lived in. My emotional regulation center doesn't seem to distinguish between sources of grief, and so I've found myself also missing Bob, who is not here to tell me it will all be OK, and missing Libby, who will NOT be turning 59 when her birthday rolls around next week. 

*heavy sigh*

I'd want to DO SOMETHING, but I'm already doing the things I can do.  I never stopped the protest donations I started the first time he took power - I knew they were still needed. (If you're curious, the donations go to the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, Gabby Gifford's anti-gun organization, and Harvesters, my local food pantry.)

While I know I am not alone in my frustration and fear, I find these to be isolating emotions, and I haven't reached out for the support I know is out there. Soon enough.

In the meantime, Sylvester still needs his morning walk. 

We step out each morning into the crisp, cold, clean air, right around the time the sun begins to light the eastern sky.

We stop every few yards, especially for the first part of the walk. He needs to sniff the important messages left on the grass and the bases of the trees, and thus I have some time to look around and notice the world around me.

The streets are quiet.

Each morning, the gray begins to lift a bit earlier than it did the day before. 

The last couple of mornings, I've heard snatches of bird song! 

Tactile reminders: This, too, shall pass (but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck to be in the midst of it).

I just need to take one more step. I can do this.