Fight or Flight

Today was a particularly bad day. But not in the normal way.

My normal bad days consist of stress that builds up and wears me down until there's possibly an explosion, or until I wish for an explosion. Babies crying, dogs barking, work piling up, trying to get something in that matters to you but having to give up on it because there's just no time, energy, point. Fighting with Dan because that's what stress does to you, it literally puts your body in fight or flight mode, and flight isn't an option.

Those or my normal bad days. They are more days than not, at least on some level.

Today was a...helpless, sad bad day. Today, there was nothing I could do about the results of the election, all of which were sad and disappointing. There was nothing I could do about the funeral of the woman who died who I mentioned a few post's ago, or the man who loved her walking around all day in his black suit. There was nothing I could do for the coworker that I am close to will no longer be working with me. There was nothing I could do about the news that my parents are both experiencing medical concerns. And there was nothing I could do about the fact that Zack may no be flying out here for Christmas, due to budget and schedule constraints.

So I was just sad.

No barking dogs, no crying babies. No work that I cared enough to stop from piling up. No ambition to accomplish anything that I didn't end up being able to accomplish. I had no responsibilities, no duty to fight. I was just sad.


Tomorrow, things will likely go back to the normal kind of bad. At work, I will have to help with my coworker's responsibilities. Politically, the numbness will subside and I'll feel like it's time to start fighting again. The baby will cry. The dog will bark. I might feel so overcome by my sadness at Zack not being able to come for Christmas that I start scheming up ways to pay for his ticket.

It will all be stressful. It will all get my heart pumping and my adrenaline racing. I will be fighting for my life.


I guess, at the moment, the helplessness feels like respite. Nothing to do, but just be sad.


Day 23. One week left. On with it.