roses

roses

Thursday, August 31, 2017

No spoons left, only knives.

I have been taking an unplanned hiatus from social media recently. It started when I was hypomanic because I didn't want to say or do something stupid, offensive, or cruel because in my disordered thinking it was 'clever, funny, or honest.' I continue this hands off approach towards the internet right now because my tolerance for the garbage flying around everywhere is really low.

Listening to the news makes me super anxious. It generally tends to low key trigger me for the day. Which is why I ceased my previously resumed habit of listening to the morning news as I fixed breakfast. It's hard to scramble eggs and make bacon with two small people running around. It's even harder when listening to how the nation is on the brink of nuclear war is bringing out the ugliest aspects of the nation, up to and including rabid white supremacists whom I have such a deep loathing of that it reaches into a visceral urge to vomit when I hear their trash talk.

Watching the disasters unfolding around the world breaks my heart and has me deeply concerned for everyone and everything involved. Hurricane Harvey, the flooding in India and Pakistan, the other man made disasters such as the chemical spills in major waterways responsible for providing drinking water for entire communities and regions... they're all enough to again make me feel ill, especially the ones that are created out of humanity's gross disregard and disrespect of nature.

Thus, I am weary into my soul on these fronts. I had this grand idea of starting a feminist oriented news blog where I and a cadre of similar minded female identified people kept others abreast of the threats to us all. I haven't gotten even the first post done because of how awful everything in the news has been. You don't need someone to point out where the problems are. It is slapped in your face daily.

It also is something that has made it hard for me to write. I literally am struggling with this awful feeling that all of my written work is pure vanity. This is not depression talking here. (I'm at a fairly neutral mental state, actually. This is because the medication is actually working.) It is a sense of being very small and watching the sea draw back for a massive tsunami and having no high ground to retreat to. I look at it all and go "What can I do to help? I am but one woman. I don't even have the spoons to manage all of the balls up in the air in my own household. How in the nine worlds would I manage to do other stuff?"

Horace said "Nil desperandum." Never despair. I am attempting to follow the sage's wise words. It is, however, very difficult.

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