Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and this is one of the most surreal Thanksgivings I remember. I don't remember another. Just this. This, with the Native Americans we are 'celebrating our friendship' with tomorrow getting water cannoned and having their arms blown off at Standing Rock. This, with our President Elect Donald Orange Trump waiting in the wings to step into the White House. I was with Ever in town and boys and men waving large American flags were chanting BUILD THE WALL and yelling Trump and fucking liberals and I got back in the car and drove home crying. This, strange new world. This, when two of our children are not children at all, but men of 20 and 22 years old. How? Time, of course. Forward.
I am going to lessen my Zoloft. I feel too distant from my body. I am not anxious nor having panic attacks and I fall asleep at night, instead of laying in a light sweat and weeping over babies crying in cribs, as I have spent many nights doing, BUT. But I don't feel much. Detached, dissociated, drugged. American?
Tomorrow I will cut 25% of my oblong blue pill and along with the adrenaline I summon my tears, raucous laughter, love, lust, easy orgasm.
Tonight, I sleep.