Why I get so worked up

I suppose it isn’t just politics I get worked up about, although as I wrote a couple of days ago, it often makes me lose control. It has been a long, awful year, the likes of which I hope we never see again. Other than online, I haven’t seen family or friends in months; I have barely been anywhere. Most of all, Lyn’s death this year was a blow like no other. Even thinking about her these days is enough to trigger a maelstrom of emotion: pain, anger, regret, loss. The thought of that empty bungalow will haunt me always. Of course I try to keep my mind on other things, but every so often the fact that I’ll never see or speak to this wonderful, vibrant person, part of my daily life for a decade, again hits me like a pain worse than any other. On top of everything else, that simple fact is for me what is so fucked up about this year, yet it amplifies my fury at all the other things to a point where my frustration goes beyond words. I think that’s why I get so worked up about things like politics. Lyn and people like her put up with so much; if only the self-entitled, arrogant scumbags running the country had a fraction of her patience, humility and wisdom.

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