It’s Mourning Again in America

It was the first morning in a long time that I didn’t look at the internet nor the television. Seeing it in written out in bold would have meant it was real, so maybe if I didn’t see it, reality was still up for grabs.

I resisted crying when checking in with people, which required resistance. I tried my dissociative best to carry on as if things were, if not different, then at least far away.

The only way I can come to terms with the moment is through understanding that the desperation in our country can’t be overlooked. People are shouting it. The profound bewilderment I feel within myself must be matched, within so many, by profound pain.

The American experiment remains just that. In it, the love of family and friends is the constant variable for which I remain most grateful.