12th December 2019
Pivotal date.
The idiots who can’t count are saying tonight’s the last
full moon of the decade. I have to wonder what kind of arithmetic their schools
taught. <>
The election in the UK. Those of us with hearts are praying
the Tories are ousted. We’ll see. There’s an election news blackout until the
polls close at 10PM GMT. Frankly the US should do the same.
19 days until 2020. That just sounds unreal to me, a child
of the 50s and 60s. 2020. We should have shuttles to mars and flying cars by
now, and world peace and equality, right?
HA! Instead we have ignorant, racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, corrupt
sexual offenders as leaders in at least two of the biggest economies in the
world and their sycophants thinking it’s okay to act accordingly with impunity.
43 years since my dad died. The single worst day of my life.
For weeks I just wanted to die, too.
It seems it’s a watershed moment for me. I’ve had wake-up
calls before, usually I just go back to sleep. Somehow, today seems different. To
put it in context, I’ve lived with depression probably since high school. For
long periods of time, it didn’t seem to bother me, or at least I didn’t think
it did. I’ve taken bupropion (trade name Wellbutrin) for years for ADHD, but it
also helped with the depression. (I’d
tried Zoloft, which I don’t recommend unless you are really into frustrating
sex; and Lexapro, which did away with the depression, but also any feelings at
all. Grand! I’m no longer depressed, but I don’t give a flying fuck about
anything. Not my cuppa.)
This isn’t any sort of oh-my-god-epiphany-wake-up-call, one
that is supposed to change my life (I’ve had those before and they were red
herrings). Rather it’s quite the opposite. In the past, I’ve posted cheery, upbeat
things like “I’m making progress!” “Imma
get this shit done now.” Etc. etc.
Today, in the wake of what seems a disastrous—at this
writing—election in the UK, keeping the bloody Tories in power and putting the
NHS in dire danger (among other things), I look at my house and me and realise
I’m overwhelmed. Not just by the pile of crap, but by the enormity of the task.
By the enormity of my fuck-all mood. I literally want to do nothing but go back
to bed.
Overwhelmed by ennui. And dustbunnies.
