Why do I feel all this? Because I'm an artist.
The racing thoughts. The drop in the pit of the stomach. The towering rage. Fear. Caustic, searing derision. Hate. Oh yeah. Good stuff. This is me, 2017 edition, too much of the time. And I am far, far from alone. And then Twitter, so often a bad idea, so often a trigger for the rage, offers up this:
So today, we vote. We participate. (I hope you participate!) But then--I've got to get better at protecting my heart and mind. I've got to get better at seeing, hearing, feeling without being knocked down by every wave. I have learned and re-learned this lesson more than once since last November. This is MY life.