The sight of the huddled masses of party-goers stooped nervously over their cell phones was so unbearably foreboding, I escaped into a stairwell. There, the past year of my life caught up with me: the sudden death of my dearest friend’s fiancé, followed by the sudden death of my dearest cousin’s husband; my broken heart over a guy who didn’t share my feelings for him; a hobbling sports injury; the steady march of deadlines in my work as a science journalist; chronic migraines; major abdominal surgery; and of course the gnawing stress of the presidential campaign, ever driven by the fear that an unhinged demagogue would rise to power.
"Major abdominal surgery" = an appendectomy. A potential boyfriend who turned him down. A friend of a friend died. A limp caused by sports. Yeah, this guy's life was shattered, all right. A hangnail would probably put him over the edge.
Nevertheless, I'd be depressed too if this was all I had of my life at age 38. Can't blame that one on Trump.
What is truly frightening, no hyperbole intended, it this guy is a Science Journalist!
That goes a long way towards explaining the unhinged, juvenile, absolute panic at the phrase "Climate Change..."
When I was 38 and got some bad news, I could...
Hug my wife
Play with my kid
Work on my house, there’s always something to do
Go outside and work in my yard, or my shop
Throw myself into my job and move ahead in my career
Or, do something completely different and work on my education.
But then, I didn’t hitch my fortunes to a politician who didn’t know me from a hole in the ground, and even if they DID know me, could care less about my mental health.
Truly there are disturbed people out there. And they vote. More concerning, they drive. Might be on the road next to you on your commute in the morning.
Well, I'm glad we avoided that one. SoS Cankles would've fit that bill.