I rolled out of bed this morning. (I mean that literally. That's the easiest way, isn't it? Especially when the arthritis hurts so bad.) Pamela had been up for heaven knows how long with the granddaughter who spent the night. I think she was already finishing her second cup of coffee. (Pamela, that is. Not the granddaughter.) I made my first. The granddaughter was playing and Pamela was looking at her phone, which meant she was probably reading the news. Awe, the news. That's one of those thing which is so disgusting, horrible and terrifying that you don't want to look but have no choice, then you get upset with the person or agency who reported it. Looking doesn't stop it. Looking away doesn't make it worse. Pamela made some delicious scrambled eggs with okra. I helped the granddaughter into her booster seat and sat down with my coffee and egg sandwich. I turned on my phone and sat looking at the screen. I sat for a long time. The screen is a picture of a mountain I explored in southern Arizona. Across the top and bottom are icons; shortcuts to places on my phone. I sat looking. I can't do it. I just can't do it. I can't look. The thought of looking at that news, at looking at dastardly deeds over which I have no control and which will never be punished, seeing articles about how one narcissistic miserabilis culus is going to make me drive 2,000 miles to vote so he can't hurt us any more, . . . the thought of looking is more than I can handle. I can already feel the oppressive sensation of depression which comes with the news. I can't do it. I won't. There is nothing I can do until I make the journey to cast my vote and tell 'him who shall not be named' that I've had enough. This is exactly why, for almost forty years of psych practice, I told patients and colleagues, "never read the news first thing in the morning. It will destroy your day." I've had so many days destroyed, whether reading the news in the morning, noon or night, that I've lost track. It has been my fear for the past 1,373 days. Today - no way! Did I wake up with a bad attitude? . . . . . probably!
