Comfortably Numb

This is a tough time of year. As posted on the Book of Faces earlier this week, it feels like I'm wearing a wet wool cape that presses me with chronic low-grade heft toward the ground.

A man I knew, not well, but knew just the same, died  on Monday of a brain tumor. He was young, in his forties, leaving four children.
Three years ago, my mother's diminishing ramped up, hurtling us all to her death on December 7.

A friend is stuck (when you're in it, stuck seems for all the world like a big T truth), in an abusive relationship.

There are deeper, older scars which also start to itch this time of year.

Pile on world events like Ferguson, the anniversary of Sandy Hook, beheadings, UVA rapes, Bill Cosby, and that cape gets more and more cumbersome.

There is a lot of sighing coming out of my mouth, most of it heavy. There is some spontaneous crying, like earlier today when I saw a vehicle from Clairbridge, where Mom lived out her final days.
The side read "Your story continues here..." Maybe it did, but what a sad story.

I'm eating too many bad things. Drinking too many bad things. Not exercising enough.
Trying to become comfortably numb.

On the up side, a friend shared this lovely article: http://the-toast.net/2014/11/25/spinsters-almanac-poetic-advice-depression/

Of course, the only song that fits here: