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I don't remember a time when life seemed so...Man, I don't want to say futile, but that's the only word that comes to mind at the moment. Michelle Obama spoke of suffering from "low-grade depression" on her podcast; dysthymia, being the clinical term. I don't generally go down the Google self-diagnosis route, but a quick look at the symptoms—lack of sleep/energy, trouble concentrating, carrying out responsibilities without much enthusiasm—and it's hard not to relate. Then again, how the hell can any of us feel anything else right now? I've been trying to lose myself in personal projects—succeeding to a certain extent—but one look at the news and I'm right back where I started. Between the uncertainty of the coming months, the kids going back to school in two weeks, the fears for everyone's health, Greenland passing the point of no return and the daily insanity unfolding south of our border (Oleandrin! No windows! Tariffs! Fraud! Yo-Semite!), I'm not sure it would even be natural NOT to be somewhat affected, psychologically. I should probably disengage from the news but then...how can I? Part of me still believes it'll pass and the world as we knew it will return. Perhaps it's naive, hopefully it isn't. Optimism, it seems, has survived, despite unprecedented assaults. But the biggest issue I've faced, in terms of collateral damage, might be this lingering ambivalence of purpose. Everything seems important but nothing does. I keep losing the ability to identify what matters, as every action becomes somehow pointless, as each day remains unmoored. This simultaneous compression and expansion of time renders all actions...well, I'm back to futile, I guess. There, loop complete. So thanks for listening! This concludes today's edition of Stream of Thought Therapy, with Patrick La Roque. Tune in next week as we tackle the age-old question: will Joe Biden put an end to kitchen appliances—and will suburban housewives stand for it?
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