I've been incredibly blocked, lately, where writing is concerned. It's weird. There is SO MUCH going on in my head, but somehow I've been struggling mightily to come up with the corresponding words. Which isn't great for my mental state. Never has been.
It's been a weird year. I dare say I'm not alone in that assessment. I've seen it described as a dumpster fire, a garbage year, the apocalypse...
I haven't had the words to discuss the current political climate. Anyone who has ever read anything in this space ever already knows my stance. Suffice to say that if you think you can pray away the gay, then you are just as anti-science as people who refuse to believe in evolution. I realize the Venn diagram on these two things is already basically a circle.
I've been in a pretty dark place lately, personally. I am supremely unhappy with my physical self. I'm struggling to find a way to change that. My days are so busy, and by the time my nights arrive, I'm generally too wiped to contemplate much of a workout. But I need it. Not just physically, but mentally.
I've been carrying around a pretty heavy melancholy, which I think is kind of a mental manifestation of my physical state. It grosses me out almost as much as my physical self, too. I don't have much tolerance for sad sack Lindsay.
But also. This time of year is kind of an emotional tinder box. The holidays are so wonderful and magical. But as I've said every year, they're also awfully fraught when your Dad is Santa and then he dies. This will be our fourth Christmas without him, which in and of itself is mind blowing. But it only ever gets very marginally easier to accept his absence. Very marginally.
I've got to get out of this funk. GOT. TO. I don't do well existing in Blahsville. I just don't.
