Adios November. You were an incredibly surreal month and I’m not sad to see you in my rearview mirror. And that makes me a bit mad because I love November. It signals the start of the holiday season, and I adore Thanksgiving with all its food, food and more food. But yeah … that happened and my joy dimmed and fear and anger crept in.
Disbelief. Confusion. Helpless. Scared. Worried. Anger. Despair. All emotions I felt last Tuesday evening. My body ached in a way I had not felt since the height of my depression. Feeling helpless, I went to bed to hide, to pretend a little bit longer. But I tossed and turned all night, continually waking Max to talk and weep. The poor cat just wanted to sleep. As did I, but that simple comfort alluded me that night.
Wow. Yeah, that happened. I kept thinking (praying) that when the sun rose Wednesday morning, Ashton Kutcher would announce the world’s largest punk ever. We’d laugh, shake our fist at him and breath a huge sigh of relief. But we weren’t punk’d. This wasn’t a dream. Or a test. This was real, scary real. I hurt so much right now. My original post for today seemed trite. And wrong. I wanted to stay in bed and weep for the world. But lying there, with my cat, Max, pressed against me, I realized my silence only helps hate continue to win.