I think I’m suffering from Pre-, During- and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It sure feels that way because every day seems to be a “WTF just happened?”day. And just when you take a deep breath and try to process it, new WTFs just keep piling on.
This is pretty much my life these days, which has left me in a state of persistent anxiety. And which is why I haven’t written a blog since September 2017.
I know you think it’s because of POTUS as he dumps his dysfunction on us, and yes, that’s a part of it. But it’s also LIFE and the fact that s**t happens. Excuse me, I feel like I’m giving “s**t” a bad name. Or more precisely, “s**thole.” Or “s**thouse.” I know that’s old news now and you probably don’t even remember what that flap was all about. (POTUS expressed a preference for immigrants from Norway rather than “s**thole” countries like Haiti and unidentified African states.)
I don’t know if it’s from being in a constant hyper vigilant state that makes me more aware and sensitive to every little thing which, at one time, I might have brushed off with a shrug and say, “Oh well, that’s life.” I’m not saying the recent ballistic missile attack alert debacle in Hawaii was one of those moments. I know that people panicked, and I probably would have too. But I’ll never know as I wasn’t even aware of the alert until after it was declared a false alarm. I was meditating and AJ figured it was a mistake since the sirens didn’t go off. When I came out from my meditation, he said, “Guess what you missed!”
False alarms aside, the “s**t happens” state of our personal affairs is no less world shaking, as we’ve had some pretty major events in our household like health scares and hospitalizations for multiple and serious illnesses. And unexpected deaths of relatives and friends both very young and very old. That takes an emotional toll. But somehow you get through them. Besides, what’s the alternative? Still, in the face of the reality that we all die in the end, though hopefully not because of a nuclear attack, we go about our business in a haze of denial. We live as if it can’t be today. Then because we make it through the day, we assume there will be a tomorrow. And when we do wake up in the morning, breathing is the sign that we’re still alive. It’s a lovely “Screw you, death!” moment.
It’s all getting to be a bit much, however. I find myself doing a lot of meditation at both ends of the day. It’s as if I need to do it in the morning to bolster me for what lies ahead, and at night to make sense of the events of the day. Or simply to be grateful that it wasn’t worse than it was. But before you get the idea that I’m able to calm my mind and immediately go to a quiet, peaceful place each time I meditate, you obviously haven’t done much meditation. My mind loves to show who’s boss, endlessly banging on with thoughts and commentaries. I’m trying my best to just say “Thank you for sharing,” and wait till they get bored and slink away. It’s in those rare, silent moments between thoughts when, even for a few seconds, I can find peace.
Addendum and observation: I started this blog about the time of the “s**thole” incident (first reported on January 11), and since then, the fast moving news cycle has kept up an unrelenting barrage of new outrages. This week put a kind of exclamation point on the madness that is our new normal with the horrendous school shooting in Parkland, Florida. Words fail. I’ve decided to leave the blog as it is because there’ll be no end to the updates. Instead, I’m going to meditate.
Equilibrium.
It’s that place in the whirlwind
where the mind can rest
