I just changed the date of my last post to May 1. Now I’m still on track for my “publish every month” goal. So there.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I have plenty to say. On the way to the gym, when I’m folding laundry, when I’m lying awake at night, there is an endless stream of thoughts and revelations and, much of the time, a thread of dissention in the background forcing me to second guess everything I just settled.

I keep waiting to bottom out, but I never do. From a creativity standpoint it’s like I’m doing one of those endless mermaid backbend turns, almost to the bottom, almost to the surface, never actually touching either.

Until I drown.

See? I can still metaphor, right? Although it’s apparently not called an endless mermaid backbend turn. Whatever.

My misanthropé (I can pronounce it however I want)  is getting boring. And it’s really just judging all of humanity by its worst examples – even as that has become harder and harder NOT to do, given the parade of shit slinging, gibbering, juvenile flesh-eating bacteria that is the internet (oops). It’s just an avoidance strategy. It’s no better than judging any other group by its worst members.


If I hate everyone, I don’t have to use reason. I don’t have to think much at all. My confirmation bias grows bloated and fat with hubris, and is the happiest it has ever been.  People are phenomenally good at proving they are not worth crossing the street for, again and again. Sadly, that does not translate to happiness for me.

Also, my GIF references are dated.

I am cycling very quickly through feelings of hopelessness and grim determination. Am I happily married? Not as much as I’d like to be. Am I willing to turn my life upside down to rectify that? Not often, but sometimes. Depends on the day. Do I have a circle of friends I really enjoy and can be myself with? No, but I share some of the blame for that. At 52, is there anything about my life that I am particularly proud?


That one breaks my heart. Sends me low. I’m afraid to write about how low.

(Of course I am proud of my children, you Judgealopes. But not as extensions of me. Doesn’t count.)

I don’t sleep well anymore. I know how much that contributes to my perspective. I keep that in mind when I’m circling the drain and I can’t see any light.

And then, should I manage to silence all that, this asshole is waiting. To remind me of the broken world I brought my children into.

Anyone who does not believe we are hurtling toward disaster, no matter how close or far you think it is, is being willfully ignorant. And if we refuse to fix that, as we seem to be determined to do – none of the other issues that are tearing us apart online and in reality matter one bit.

So, what is the point of anything?

This is where all of my essays and articles and blogs end up.

What is the point?

And if I publish, what then? I don’t have much of an audience, but what if someone takes all of my hopelessness to heart? Am I responsible?

I am tangled in my own existential shoelaces.

I do not believe in any religion or deity that has been presented to me from any faith. I reject the white guy with the beard on a cloud excluding good people and accepting horrible people who claim to have repented for completely arbitrary bullshit reasons. I believe that organized religion is what happens when faith is corrupted by power. It becomes a tool to control resources and labor, and to fund itself with fear-mongering and exploitation.

But I also don’t know what comes next. That used to bring me such joy, the not knowing. The notion that there might be something that I can’t understand, an exchange of energy, an alternate existence, something that I don’t even have words or the images to describe, that has always brought me comfort.  It’s not the existence of an “after” that is beyond our capacity to understand that offends me, it’s using it like Purity Santa for adults to gain power and control that does.

Also dated.

I am so angry. All the time. Every sleight, real or imagined, prompts an explosion that I never let anyone see, because if I did I wouldn’t have any friends. I explode because someone is thoughtless with my time, but then I realize we are only talking about half an hour. I convey that to another friend who agrees that maybe I’m not being fair, and I explode again because how dare they? My husband asks me why I’m glaring at him when I wasn’t and I want to pack a bag and move out. Someone makes an unsolicited observation about my appearance, or my mood, and…well let’s just say it’s good that you can’t read my mind. Blood and fire.

If I don’t think anyone cares if I live or die except in the context of what they need from me, what is the root of the problem? Am I, in fact, surrounded by assholes, or am I the asshole? How do you make it stop?

I visited two therapists. They both pissed me off within the first session and I never went back.

Well, that was sort of funny. And true. Maybe that’s a good place to stop. Great idea. Here’s another one: Don’t read this.






9 thoughts on “I Feel Fine

  1. I love this. I feel like this often. And then I decide to turn it off and play a game of sudoku.

  2. Let me just say that you are certainly not alone. I was nodding my head as I read your post as I could relate to so much of it. Creativity? Nope – in fact, I’m shutting down my blog this summer instead of paying the fees to keep it going. I never write anymore anyway. Organized religion? Nope! I believe religion is responsible for much of the hate, heartache and bloodshed we have in the world (past and present). Hating people and feeling cranky? Yep. I do try my best to ascribe good motives to humans, but so often they prove that they are just assholes. And I’m also getting older (closer to 60 than 50, I’m afraid), with not a lot to show for it except my pretty great kids. I live in a perpetual state of low grade depression and anxiety most of the time, broken up by moments of sheer panic when I realize that yet another thing has broken in this old house my husband left me with…and I don’t have the money to fix it. It’s like I’m living an episode of “Life After People” — except I’m still here, watching the damn thing disintegrate around me. Next thing you know, a family of raccoons and a pack of wolves will move in. Anyway – keep plugging away. That’s what I do. And I thank the God I don’t believe in that I have my children, because knowing they love me and would be devastated if something happened to me has kept me from ending things more than once. And you might give it another shot with a therapist – sometimes it takes a couple of tries to find one that you click with. Oh, and drugs — anti-depressants are the only thing keeping my low-level depression from becoming something that is soul sucking, crippling, and debilitating. I’m always here reading your stuff – even when I don’t comment.

    1. I’m sorry to hear that you are shutting down. I wondered where you went. The ups and downs sometimes come super fast and I find myself SO angry for a GOOD reason, or a tiny reason, or really no reason…and then I’m ok again. I think a therapist might help steady my perspective – figure out what’s real and what is just my perception. I appreciate the reads, and I actually do feel a bit less hateful today. which makes me feel like I was just being dramatic. Haha. No rest for the neurotic. You keep plugging away, too. ❤

  3. LOL. I do not believe in any religion either. Can’t stand organized religion, it’s such a racket. I believe we are beings of light/energy. We don’t end… 🙂 we merely transform. Into what….who knows. I enjoy your writing so much. So much of what you say…I think. So relatable. I know it’s not a word, but clearly it should be! Our friends just went on an Alaskan cruise. It’s something Noelle and I have always wanted to do. We’re sort of planning it for our 20th anniversary that’s just around the corner, but our friends warned us not to wait….the glaciers are melting. They said if you doubt global warming you need only visit Alaska. It’s sad and devastating how much has already been lost. I never doubted climate change, but some people are in complete denial. Be proud that you can write. The ability to reach others with words is a gift that not very many possess. You are a gifted writer that makes this writer laugh, smile, sigh, empathize. Be proud. 🙂

  4. There you are! Was waiting to find out where to send flowers./condolence.
    As an asshole this needs a WTF.
    As in:
    Where TF you been? Expecting another article last month but nooo. Backdating just Wrooong.
    What TF is this? Not directed at a particular asshole but all assholes in general. Pick a particular asshole and let em have it. You’re so good at it. Excluding myself from the selection of course. Husband too easy a shot. Duck in barrel cleaned and stuffed soaking in l’orange.
    Organized crime and religion same thing. Not really revelation for me. Some folks need the church and the fairy tales. Old white dude with long ass beard and robes just floating around casting the waste to hell and yanking pure to sit on a cloud to play harp. Actually works for some people. Me neither along with buying/paying into lesser hell or purgatory.
    Refrain from babbling on and say its nice to have you.

      1. Too damn many to choose from. You opened up so many avenues where the pricks live but nothing. Only some poor bastard so infatuated with you that hes concerned how you looked at him. Guess he ran out of trophy wife alloted quota of tolerance that day.

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