On Thursday, I was working at my desk when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large black shape fly then fall. A giant raptor diving after some poor pigeon? Perhaps a piece of patio equipment blown off the neighboring apartment’s terrace -- it has been incredibly windy, not quite Casper-levels but still awful. I stood up and looked down onto the roof about thirty stories below, and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
-As I wrote about in this morning’s Second Breakfast, witnessing this suicide has helped me re- prioritize getting therapy. I had an intake call with a mental health office on Friday, and I have a call with a prospective counselor tomorrow. I mean, some days I feel so good and strong, but even on those days, I worry that feeling too good and too strong is just the prelude to the crash. Some other tragedy lies just around the corner. I can’t outrun it.
+As I wrote about in this morning’s Second Breakfast, witnessing this suicide has helped me re- prioritize getting therapy. I had an intake call with a mental health office on Friday, and I have a call with a prospective counselor tomorrow. I mean, some days I feel so good and strong, but even on those days, I worry that feeling too good and too strong is just the prelude to the crash. Some other tragedy lies just around the corner. I can’t outrun it.
It’s cold outside this morning -- lower 20s. Not nearly as cold as it’s been in the Pacific Northwest, where Kaia has experienced a power outage in her apartment building that’s had her staying in hotels and AirBnBs over the holiday weekend -- no promises of getting things rectified until Tuesday, which I have to say was probably not part of the larger “I Have a Dream” vision of MLK, making folks wait until after the weekend to get their electricity and water back on. But anyway.