Not gonna lie: this week has worn me down and worn me out.
I’m exhausted and drained from the inexhaustible disappointment of humanity.
I’m tired of shouting righteous outrage on social media.
I’m sick of watching the news, almost as sick as I am of what’s happening on the news.
I’m just spent – empty, hollow, deflated – and I’m not sure what kind of self-care will change or alter that.
I spent the past few days watching the news, which is never a great idea, but it felt important. This is not normal, this is not ok, and the people who pretend it is, or that there are two sides to this, are just as culpable.
What’s worse, and what scares me just the slightest bit, is that I’m starting to not care. Maybe that shouldn’t frighten me so. Maybe that’s survival. I know it’s a coping mechanism because I’ve reached points of exasperation with the state of the world this past week when I had to shrug off the news, retreat into my daily meditation, and gain the fifteen to twenty minutes after the session for a window of peace and calm. That helps. Meditation always helps. But it’s not enough to inspire me.
I don’t even feel much like writing here.
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