Emotionally and Physically Drained

As I am typing these words, I am hunkered down in bed, listening to music, not feeling much like going anywhere, despite the fact that I have an appointment with a therapy client this afternoon and will be hanging out with my son, daughter-in-law and newborn grandson tonight. Both of these would normally lift my spirits. Today, they barely scratch the surface of the despair I am feeling about the state of the world and in particular, what atrocities are occurring in this country. I have been following the impeachment proceedings on tv and on NPR, taking it in in bits and pieces. There are times when I have to turn it off to maintain my sanity. I don’t have the luxury of acting as if it isn’t happening, so it is for the purpose of pushing the reset button. It is all a blur.

It leaves me scratching my head at the insanity of the acknowledgment by some that #45 did indeed engage in wrongdoing, but it didn’t rise to the level of an impeachable offense and that even if it did, it would be too disruptive to the country to remove him from office. What, in the name of all that is holy, would it take for them to gather up their courage and integrity and call it as it is?

I consider myself someone who has a strong spiritual faith and engage in what I call God-versations every day. On my way home from work last night, I had a heart to heart with the Divine that went like this, “If you are omnipotent, how can you allow this cruelty and destruction to occur? If you aren’t, what can we do to work together to stop this runaway train before it crashes? We don’t have the luxury of ignoring the signs and relinquishing our responsibility for taking action.”

I didn’t receive a reply.

For the past few days, I have felt over the top anxiety, bordering on what my clients would call panic attacks. Nausea, lightheadedness, heart palpitations, poor appetite, exhausation, as I have wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers until this whole mess is over. I don’t have the luxury of doing that for very long either. Not that I have the grandiose belief that if I take time off, the planet will stop spinning on its axis, but ignoring the frightening reality won’t make it better either. Resistance fatigue is not an official diagnosis of what ails me, but it is an accurate description. I am tired of fighting. I know I don’t do it alone. We are surrounded by kindred spirits who are shining a light in the darkness.

It reminds me of one of the themes in one of my favorite books called A Wrinkle in Time. In it, the main characters face the darkness with the certainty that love overcomes it all, despite appearances.

I would like to send each of the Republican senators a Christmas Carol dream in which Jacob Marley and the ghosts of past, present, and future pay them a visit. This would be to remind them of the importance of seeing the impact of their decision. My prayer is that between now and the time the vote is taken on Wednesday, that they grow a conscience. Can they actually look their children and grandchildren in the eye and break their oath? Is the dystopian future that has already begun to unfold what they want for them?

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Have you read the original anthology that was the catalyst for The Good Men Project? Buy here: The Good Men Project: Real Stories from the Front Lines of Modern Manhood