I am seriously wondering if the rise in deaths by suicide have anything to do with DT being in office.
I think it must.
Of course I have nothing to back that up but as someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, I know personally that having him in the White House is one more bit of fuel the brain can use to try to convince someone who is already struggling that everything is more hopeless than it's ever been. There is no doubt that after the election many people found themselves waking up daily with a huge sense of dread and fear and the realization that what we had believed to be true about our fellow citizens and our country had been proven totally wrong.
And not in a good way at all.
And of course, our fears have proven to be justified and quite frankly, things are getting far worse than even I could have imagined. I think this may be true for many of us.
As I've said so many times, it's as if that man wakes up every day, consults with the devil to determine what the absolute most evil thing he could do would be, and then does it.
And Congress appears to be, for the most part, more than willing to pucker up and kiss the Trumpian ass and join him in the Faustian bargain.
Not sure what they think they're going to get out of this. Money, of course. But even Robert Johnson made a better deal than theirs down at the Crossroads and probably because the devil has more integrity when it comes to keeping his word than Donald Trump does. Sure, he lost his soul but he will be remembered forever as the beloved and lightening-filled father of the blues guitar whereas if there is any justice (and aren't we all a bit worried there may not be?) those law-makers will be remembered in history as evil incarnate or perhaps even better yet, not remembered at all.
Trump will be.
Oh yes he will.
So that's what I've been thinking about today which has been a slow, non-eventful day. Last night Miss Violet did not show up in the roost but this morning she appeared again as if by chook magic and she's done this before. She's my wild little thing and I do love her.
We got another nice rain storm this evening, nothing like yesterday's but fine in its own right. I am making spaghetti like your mama made only with ground venison instead of ground beef. I was happy to see this morning that the year-old zipper cream peas I planted the other day have come up nicely. The rattlesnake beans haven't broken ground but I think they might. We'll see after all this rain.
Tomorrow is Hank's birthday and forty-two years ago I was twenty-one years old and in labor in a little apartment on Miccosukee Road in Tallahassee having my little mind blown at what giving birth was actually turning out to be like and quite certain that I was in a devil's dream of pain of my own and that nothing good could come of this and wondering how in the world the regular activities of the universe could be carrying on around me while this, this, THIS was happening in my body. Little did I know that although Ina May and her hippie mamas may have understated what labor would actually feel like, they had also not been able to actually describe how I would feel when my baby was finally born and I held him in my arms.
Maybe this is a good time to remember that. To remember that there are things which can be more painful and unbearable and messy and humbling than we ever thought we would experience but that if we hold on, if we just manage to make it through this minute and then that one and then that one, it will have been far more worth it than we could ever know.
Maybe. Take that for what it's worth.