Tonight I broke my diet to drink wine. Admittedly, I’m self-medicating because the state of our country depresses me. I’m not the only one I know who has done this lately. Sometimes it seems like the only way to cope. So tonight, in my wine-induced stupor, I’m writing. But you know what’s hard about writing during a time like this? I can’t nail down one emotion. Part of me feels immensely angry about the president we have, the policies in place, the lack of action being taken. Part of me feels hope that somehow all this shit happening will wake people up and make them realize, we need to work for change. Part of me is scared for my future children. Part is ready for them to come into the world and make the impact I know we need.
We’re not the first people to feel like this. Every generation has had a point where they are fed up with the state of the world and we reach a tipping point. My question is - what will ours be? Mass shootings hasn’t made us react. A terrifying, numbskull of a president hasn’t. I’m almost scared to see what it is that makes us stand up and figure out how to help.
I do what I can. That’s all we can do I suppose.
